


..::SENSE OF PURPOSE::..

by RealityGlitch



Category: Original Work, Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Abandoned Factory, Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Alien Erotica, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Angst, Artificial Intelligence, Blood, Borderline Personality Disorder, Creepy Fluff, Cyberpunk, Delusions, Dreams and Nightmares, Dystopia, Earth Observation, Emotions, Escapism, F/F, FWUCollections, Falling In Love, Fear, Female Sexuality, Femininity, Feminist Themes, Fluff, Freedom, Gore, Healing, Healing Sex, Homosexuality, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Insanity, Intimacy, Journey, Kissing, Loneliness, Love, Machines, Minor Character Death, Mystery, Nerdiness, Obsessive-Compulsive, Original Character(s), POV Female Character, POV First Person, Pain, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Violence, Physics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Present Tense, Robot Feels, Robot/Human Relationships, Robots, Satellite Imagery, Science, Science Fiction, Self-Harm, Sensuality, Sexuality, Smut, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Subjective POV, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Symbionts, Symbiotic Relationship, Technology, Technoorganic, Telepathy, Tentacles, Thriller, Transformation, Trauma, Unreliable Narrator, Urban Exploration, deep pov, science is magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2019-07-04 08:32:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 124,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15837597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RealityGlitch/pseuds/RealityGlitch
Summary: Eva discovers something odd about the building she works in...Curiosity, need for a change and longing for something exceptional makes her engage in a strange adventure that turns out to be a one-way street into the unknown. She pursues the risky path, with lots of doubt but also an awkward excitement, revealing to herself some dark avenues of her own mind as well as new horizons of a world that she would have never believed existed.This is a gloomy, disturbing but beautiful story of a great escape from the real world, superhuman understanding, sensuality deep to the bone, heartbreaking and heartwarming love, hope fighting with bitterness, overcoming violent past and tormented memories, and on top, some sweet nerdiness and the question of artificial (???) intelligence and... beautiful, sentient, very human though sometimes quite scary robots.The story can be read totally without any knowledge of the lore, things are seen from the eyes of a narrator who knows nothing about it and learns all along the way.Welcome to my own personal mental dystopia <3.





	1. Night at a Skyscraper

**Author's Note:**

> This is work in progress. The story line is planned but some small details may yet change, including some titles and additional editorial work. I post around each two weeks, although the story is a tough cookie. I mean, sometimes I need to pray to my Muse a bit more to give me words of beauty in decay <3.
> 
> Although it is placed in the universe of Transformers Prime, it has a lot to do with the feeling of Evangelion, Stranger Things, Talos Principle and the Vanishing Point/Thelma&Louise. 
> 
> The story takes place after the events from the third and last season of Transformers Prime: Beast Hunters are ended, somewhere in the middle of Predacons Rising, or even closer to its end.

_The building breathes as wind strokes her glass face._

_I sit on the office floor contemplating my tiredness and listen to her inhale and exhale her pre-conditioned air. The soft pulse of her internal machinery hums through the air, filling the room and her ductwork like dilating arteries. Her body trembles in nano vibrations which only she and I can feel._

_In a moment of want or perhaps need, I merge my consciousness with the tissue of the building, who silently whispers her pulsing song to me. I sense it – I sense her all around me… She knows I’m here, shaking away the bits and pieces of my work and life, listening to all the human heartbeats under her skin, inside her floors, within her intestines. But it’s not the wind outside, or the multiplied human voices that matter. What matters is the gentle purring of the datacentre on the other side of the main corridor, the bubbling of water in her veins, and the moaning of her wind-hurt walls. My focused perception cuts off the disturbances from the organic people next door. Conversations become more and more distant as I drift further away until the chatter dissipates, and I hear only her. I feel her. On the verge of my senses. The building that breathes. And she’s looking at me._

_I close my eyes and let the day go._

_Is this a dream or is this real?_

_..._

_This is where the story of my demise begins._

 

* * *

 

It is 23 pm when I arrive. It is already darker than dark and there is no human soul in the lobby. Automated gates open willingly letting me in upon initial identification, but the glossy elevator does not want to react to the ID card at the first attempt.

I know well that out of six consecutive shafts in our building only the window-side elevators work at night. So there is no room for mistake. Well, of course, she must know that I know it, so it looks like she is playing with me. One step back, two steps ahead. Trying to tease me? To show me what it means… to be locked, immobilized against her will? Maybe…

But *me*, of all people on this freaky planet? Me, the only one, the closest one… the only one insane enough to believe what for others may only be just imagination. The only one that cares. I do not see a good reason, I did nothing wrong! Maybe it is my misperception though? Maybe I just do not understand… and this is how she’s just trying to grab my attention. After all, how else would I know there is something more to it than just an AI steering this?

A break in the pattern.  
Disobedience.  
Insubordination.

Not a malfunction, but a conscious, intelligent act of communication that is bound to be noticed. That someone like me is destined to notice… Me, of all people. Me, whom she addresses by my *name*.

The sequence of lights blinks at me again. I can see a pattern repeating a few times. If the lights on the left are zeroes and the lights on the right are ones…

_010010000110100100100000010001010111011001100001_

_"Hi Eva"_

...this is what it means if translated.

I shake my head not for the first time recently, but I already got used to.

So I nod slowly and reply her in a silent voice - “Hi Sparklight” - thinking _Let me in, please, it’s urgent, it’s late and I must go up. It’s important. It’s for you!_

The lights blink another short sequence: 0011101000101001. It means ":)"  if I follow the same logic.

Of course, I do follow this logic. So, now she smiles at me. The ritual is finished. I breathe deeply, and the elevator door close behind me.

The lifts can go up to the 67th floor up the high transparent shafts almost fully made of glass. The higher you go, the more tremendous the view of the entire city seems to be. It tempts me to go up to the very top but my floor is two-thirds of the way up and I came with a different purpose tonight.

The lift sets off briskly as if there was no problem at all right from the start and it goes up with a hiss while I am standing on its glass floor admiring the glossy night view across the wall. Transparent, as if it almost weren’t there. I wonder for a moment what it would be like if my guts were transparent. There are things, beings, living inside me too… bacteria too small for anyone to notice. Would they admire the view all the same?

Then I realize that even if I only stand here I must be touching her. From the inside. I. Am. Touching. Her. The building I work in… Can it be real? I move my hand away from the wall leaving fingerprints on the glass.

Everything disappears downwards under my feet as I swiftly move up the shaft. I have no fear of heights and the ride gives me pleasure. It is somewhat like usual, but, still, it is *different* at night. She must certainly know I like it because the lift speeds up, beyond the daytime limit, I feel the floor pushing into my feet and my body gaining weight… Something unimaginable during working time when there is plenty of people going up and down, across the shafts and corridors. Don’t these people annoy her? Stepping through her, inside her, messing with her internals… But now, in the middle of the night, now she can focus on me. On me only. And I feel it.

Everything is passing down as if I were going right into space, out to the black of the nowhere up above me, where true darkness dwells, the stars are just small dots and absolute zero freezes any life. To death. City lights that blink below me are piercing the glass panels that seem even more transparent and glossy the higher I get. Finally, I reach my floor. The elevator stops suddenly and I feel the funny itching inside me below my belly, as in my childhood times on a swing, falling down suddenly from the surge up, almost from the sky… I feel light for a second… And then back I stand on the floor and it’s time to go further.

The view is stunning. Flickering lights of wet streets, houses and cars, starting below my feet and disappearing beyond the horizon, reaching the distant chimney of an abandoned power plant blinking red at the top to warn lost aircrafts and define the line of horizon - the end of what can be seen, many miles away beyond the city boundaries. From the height of the majesty of my office floor, I can see the blackness embroidered with bright lights, little dots in the space paving logical patterns of infrastructure marking the life of people below. The life on the ground.

I drown my eyes in all that welfare for a really brief moment and I pretend to breathe the space outside for a millisecond. But the space is confined because windows are permanently locked at this height, so I can only imagine what it smells like. And I imagine. For another millisecond. It smells wet and fresh.

Then I climb the granite-steel stairs up one more floor inside the office premises of the company I work for. Everything is security locked and triple encrypted to keep strangers away. Not to let them know what is the nature of what we are doing here. Secret...

Finally, I enter the identification chamber. It locks me in to perform the entry procedure. I imagined more than once how easily she could shut me closed there, in the glass jar of that chamber, and stifle me to death if she were not in the mood… but it never happened. The orange light of the reader blinks right into my eyes and a soft recorded voice asks me kindly: _“move a little back"_ \- so I step back obediently - the light blinks at me again, now green. The reader hums quietly in satisfaction, looks deep into my eyes once more and confirms softly _“thank you, you have been identified_ ”. My eyes are my true ID, and I imagine that it is not our entry-exit control biometric system, but that it is her, that she knows me by my eyes. She knows me and lets me in…

Why me? I am nobody special. I’m just one of an army of nameless people that do AI software engineering tucked away in one of the multiple rooms in this massive building that houses thousands and thousands of people just like me. Grey, boring office mice, nerds, white collars who earn their living with their brains and their fingers on keyboards behind gloomy screens of extensive internal systems rooted to a huge datacentre at the heart of it.

Among others I do some work around the development of an experimental facility security module using “intelligent” biometric-based systems bordering with advanced privacy breach including walking, talking, breathing, shitting and other life pattern recognition modules, you name it. Officially their main aim is to facilitate life and increase the efficiency of work, but in fact, it is all down to checking on corporate employees - controlling their feelings, motivation and satisfaction levels, models of laziness, patterns of thinking, the needs and wants... I shiver just to think about it. All for the greater good, as they say.

And I am still doing it. Contributing my brainwaves to this blasphemy. It’s the scientific part that has always brought me back to the office, to the otherwise dull and repetitive work of rewriting real life into lines of code. I guess I am a bit of a freakish loner and I feel good with numbers while real people make me somewhat uneasy and disheartened by piling up any sorts of problems the first world can invent.

The project has given me a good excuse to sit overtime when nobody is watching and I can shield myself well from the eyes of the others alone in my darkness. So that I can really focus… on my real fascination, that is the AI itself.

I guess I always preferred machines to people. Machines speak clear, understandable language based on logic that my brain is able to place and comprehend. People are full of feelings, complicated, painful and ambitious. And able to hurt. A machine has never hurt me. Or at least this is what I like to believe… But, still, people make me curious… from a distance. Their habits and thinking, their strange ways that sometimes are so hard for me to comprehend. The way they act and communicate. The *illogical* and *irrational* component, that I then try to implant in my AI modules, to make it more… human.

More than once I wondered where the line could go if the AI was developed enough to reach beyond the processes induced by us, engineers. If it went ahead on its own, breaking a pattern… After all, learning is the point of it all. Sooner or later learning leads to creation. And creation is just one step away from…

What if a machine could develop a mind, a soul? What would it be like, what would it think? How would it perceive us, our organic, biological lives, our futile endeavours, our emotional dilemmas? What would be the actual difference if we made a machine sentient? Just the way we are built - would it be just it, or something else, beyond human comprehension?

Many times in the evenings, when everybody was gone, I tried to tackle this question digging through everything my team have researched and written, to create an autonomous, intelligent facility that could make its own decisions and take control of its human inhabitants through the codes we have designed and put there ourselves to create synergies that go beyond what each and every one of us could do on our own…

If someone asked me what I am looking for and why, eventually I do not know. Maybe it is a feeling. Maybe it is a change, an escape from life as it is, dull, grey, tiring and lonely. Or maybe just sheer curiosity. They say that curiosity makes you a person… And that it sent more than one person to hell. These kinds of warnings have never put me off. They tempted me instead.

I like to imagine that all the things I feel and hear are real and they actually exist. I like to test the boundaries of reality over and over again. It may qualify me as crazy, but maybe just because I specialise in what I specialise, I am after things that others would rule out from the start. Out of the box. To question what others take for granted. Because what is it that makes us human, if not questioning?

I never neglected things that may be seemingly unimportant or invisible to others. I think it gives a spark to my work and my otherwise sad and boring life. At the same time, I like to see myself as someone very much down to Earth and cutting a clear line between fantasy and the dull reality. Precisely, in order to remain sane.

Or, well, I did so until life itself caught up with me and proved me wrong. Or more precisely, it proved everything was much too upside down even for my standards.

Funny enough I have always been thinking of what we could build or create, but what caught up with me is what most likely has been there already. What exists… Not in the test runs, not in the staging environment, but for real, on production, which in simple words means real life.

I could write a whole book of whispers I started hearing, of thoughts I started having out of the blue, the life I started understanding to be trapped right in the heart of the system I’ve been working on laboriously in my nightly office sit-ins for a good time already. It’s really hard to explain how this happened, how I developed this certainty, that there is something wrong, something different, something *additional*. Something that is learning along with me, walking in my footprints, looking at me from a hiding and analysing my efforts and failures, drawing conclusions and leaving me signs.

It could, of course, be someone else, a person, someone sitting right at the other end of the building, just taking their time to play these games with me. But my overgrown imagination ruled this only sane option out as soon as it appeared. Maybe for the sake of a stupid belief, an animal instinct or for the depth and the extent of these phenomena that are haunting me. It has gotten too large, larger than life, beyond any capability of anyone I know to make up, and with not enough purpose to make sense. Too far-fetched to be recognized by anyone beyond my own crazy mind.

So, am I crazy? Or do I really see and hear things happening?

At first I was playing with this strange thought, that approached me like a muse, or a strange revelation. It seemed fun to explore and investigate, keeping me longer and longer in the office, and digging and digging more and more in all the codes and databases of existing systems. But then it started trampling on my heels, sneaking into my world through the black of my screens, through the lights in the corridor, through the hum of water in the pipes, through the buzzing of electricity in the datacentre…

I played with the thought until one day it finally became serious. Serious enough to understand that it was not a game anymore but a call… from someone. Or something that has a name. A name that presented itself in another binary message mysteriously blinking to me in the pattern of server and router lights when a few weeks ago I wandered to the datacentre for some unimportant fake technical reason.

_01010011 01110000 01100001 01110010 01101011 01101100 01101001 01100111 01101000 01110100_

_Sparklight_

I couldn’t sleep that night and I recalculated million times all the patterns I identified so far, I reshuffled all the puzzle pieces set in front of me but it did not disappear. Her name is _Sparklight_ , whatever it means, and it seems that she keeps trying to get in touch with me.

So I started calling her by that name and… I just simply *want* to believe. Whatever she is, the building itself or something hidden in its systems, or a secret AI program that tries to catch my attention, I want to believe. And I want to find out more…

There is no-one but me, the automated systems of the building, and the wide view to all directions of the light filled darkness permeating the spaces around us.

Level 45 where I work now stands open in front of me and it drowns in a contrasting pattern of total darkness and streaks of light blighting me from the outside. They come from the building’s decorations set up by its owner that are supposed to make her look beautiful, to be adored before everyone in town goes to sleep. So that all those senseless people below, who understand nothing, could admire her. So that they could *watch*.

As I walk along the corridor each office gapes at me with its exceptional spatial outlook to the world through the glass walls. Until I reach mine. Last identification: I push a key to the keyhole and leave my fingerprints on a glass panel. And there I am, inside. I can sit down on my cold chair next to the window wall and turn the systems on. The terminal starts purring quietly and I log in with the ever changed passwords into my virtual fortress. The black space outside peers in, and she, Sparklight, the soul of my building, looks at me with her invisible eyes and whispers in 3D silence:

~/ _let me out… please_ /~...

To be precise, she does not say it. And I do not literally hear her. But I know. I know this communication comes from her while rows of numbers and lines of codes pass in front of my eyes as I am running through scripts that steer a little software I built in order to… look for her.

“I will…” - I answer her call in a whisper - “I will let you out. I promise”.

I *promise* her for the hundredth time with a strong dedicated belief. Have I gone completely out of my mind? I lost ten kilos and developed a gray shade on my skin since I discovered her, since I realized she was alive.

But I *did* find something. I did! An energy signature and a code… that was constantly changing. Adjusting. Growing. With an epicentre just nearby, in our datacentre, almost next door. There is something hidden, physically present, something more than just mainframes, servers and racks. There is something pulsing and breathing. The core.

I just need to find a way to properly bite it. To communicate better, get in touch, exchange something more than just few binary words on the elevator. I strongly believe it is possible and I think I have found a way. A clue. An option worth looking into…

And this night, after weeks of research and preparation, I am going to check it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was initially intended as a very short one-shot ending where it ends now. But as my mind works the way it does, the follow-up has written itself in my head and partly on my PC already. So there are some next parts in the making. They need time and energon to grow, but it is more than a stub, it is a fully blown emotional creature that I am again feeding with my own system resources... Born from a short original story it is now growing into a fanfic, and hopefully one day it matures. 
> 
> The AU is based on Transformers Prime and my own headcanon from Depth of Field (yeah the beauty of the star-dotted night sky!) but it also takes the feel from all the other things I mentioned in the intro, yet some of our TF friends from the series will pop in at some point. Not in the first chapters, but later, I'll welcome them with a warm hug , actually I am writing one of them now <3\. 
> 
> For now it is what it is: a painting of a midnight dream with a ghost of AI [?] in the background. I hope you enjoy :].
> 
> The rest of the story will follow... one way or the other.
> 
> Yours truly,  
> RealityGlitch, a nerd, a freak and Soundwave's oldest symbiont transforming into a photo-camera. :]


	2. Behind The Racks

“Hey… Eva… wake up, you fell asleep” - a voice reaches me from a blind nowhere, together with a firm shake of my shoulder and an immense discomfort in my back and neck from some sharp objects engraved in my skin.

“You’ve been sleeping in the datacentre, are you crazy? If someone caught you…” - the air conditioning’s cold is freezing me. My limbs are stale. I can hardly move and it takes me a moment just to open my eyes. My voice refuses to leave my mouth while he continues - “you’d be screwed like hell, it is totally forbidden!” - My blurry vision identifies Martin’s face - both worried and angry - leaning over me with wide open eyes that stare at my face.

“Where does it say it’s forbidden?” - I manage to ask in a rusty voice that finally emerges from the depth of my throat. He only shrugs and continues:

“Let’s get you out of here before anybody finds out. Honestly, I should revoke your access... Can you stand up?” - he looks at me as if I were crippled, and in fact I feel this way. I literally cannot move and I don’t quite remember what happened. Or how on Earth I got inside here. When exactly… I was supposed to check something urgently... or… what was that I wanted to check…?

My dim memory comes back to me slowly, reluctantly, in a heavy, deep, lukewarm wave as if understanding was leaking into my dazed brain like melting wax. It emerges at the tips of my synapses, then finds its way into the senses spreading all around my body, to reach eventually the logical resources of the mind. The electric circuits of my memory click finally together with a an averse realisation: _Ahh so. So this is it. I found her._ At the same moment a lightning strikes me almost literally as the electricity in my neural network surges suddenly… _Holy crap!!! I found her!!!_

I stare blank at Martin digesting this internal shock. I stay silent as he tries to help my frozen body up from the floor. A sharp streak of pain hits my neck and spreads along my spine when I try to move as if my skin was torn and something was pulled abruptly out from within me. Then sticky warmth oozes down across my back. It wakes me up from bedazzlement. I can’t let him notice it, or worse, touch it. I am trying to get up on my own as he helps me by holding my arm. I feel a strong urge to look back but I know he would follow my gaze and that is out of the question, even though I haven’t got a slightest idea what is hiding behind me. It is mine and as long as I do not know, nobody can know. Even the friendly soul of Martin.

“You are so damn lucky it’s been me and not someone else who’s found you…” - he looks at me again as we leave. The corridors are still empty while we walk to my office. - “But, still, you may get into trouble if someone notices the records on the monitoring… what has come over you? If you had nowhere better to go you could have slept in your office at least. Or call me…” - he smirks a little but stops soon enough while I say just nothing. I move with him dragging foot by foot slightly behind, feeling as if I were heavy and almost frozen to death and now slowly defreezing.

“I’ll bring you coffee.” - he concludes after dropping me off at the office. Then he leaves me finally alone. Yep. I do not drink coffee. Almost ever. But maybe now it would be eventually a good idea. I could use some hot coffee. The best part however is that thanks to coffee he is gone for at least five minutes.

I raise my hand to my neck and touch my skin. It is warm, sticky and wet. And it hurts. I put my hand in front of my eyes and look at my fingers dirty in my own drying blood. It’s got a strange colour. There is something bluish showing through the reddish brown… But my ability to focus is almost down to zero. I don’t even have enough attention to wonder about all what’s just happened or what I have discovered. Trying to focus on the sole activity of sitting straight in my chair and keeping my eyes open is sufficient, and for now I schedule all other problems for later consideration.

But I do have a functional survival instinct. Not yet clear how, but I am wounded and it’s dripping blood. Someone might see it. Not good. I have to wash it off before anybody notices. I collect my strength and get up from the chair. Luckily the restroom is just next door. I sneak out on soft knees hoping to make it before he is back with the coffee. What made him come so early to the office, blasted Martin, go to hell.

My memory activates again giving me a quick flashback. _The monitoring should still run in a loop._ The somewhat calming thought emerges in my mind right from nowhere. I don’t quite remember meddling with the monitoring, but I know it was possible. And rational… I *could* have tampered with the surveillance system on a _mission_ like that. After all, who else knows better how to hack in… Well, sure this was no rocket science, but I do not recall myself getting into the system and looping the cameras. But I *know* I did it. Erm. I will need to check it in a moment, but now…

I open the restroom door with the weight of my body. It closes behind me with a click. I have one minute to do what I have to do. I turn around and try to look in the mirror to see my back. There is a big wet dark stain on my shirt sticking to my shoulder blades and upper spine. So it is no illusion…

I release my pony tail and let my long hair hang loose to hide the stain. It will have to do for the time being, until I can put something else on top of it to hide it. Something stops me from looking at the actual source of the bleeding. It is almost dry and that is enough to know for the moment. I leave the bathroom and head back to my office. I’m a lucky bastard to have an office of my own, and not to sit in open space with everyone. It is a small woodpecker’s hollow, but it is not claustrophobic thanks to the glass wall separating me invisibly from the outside world. The glass wall… my head gets cloudy for a second and a flashback from yesterday night fills my mind. _I. Am. Touching. Her…_

At the same moment I hear steps on the corridor. Soft, distant steps coming from the direction of our kitchenette. I turn around staggering a little I grab a sweater hanging on the backrest of my chair and throw it over my shoulders. Then I sink into the seat in front of my screens, just a moment before Martin comes in with the coffee. He stands in the open door and looks at me worried, while something in myself tries to _scan_ him for signs showing _if he noticed the tip of the bloodied datacable hidden under the rack when he was waking me up._ He would give a sign that he saw something… wouldn’t he? I would have noticed, he would have been at least a little shocked. Men react to blood. Especially men who are not used to it. Tired men in white collars with soft, good hearts. But he is just worried… Nothing else. _I listen to his heartbeat_. And I can hear it from where I am sitting, it is just beating. Not too fast, rather slow. Regularly. I’m listening carefully and I can register his breath frequency… I realize I *can* hear it. Same as when I heard *her* for the first time... and the distant people breathing far in the depths of the building. What is happening to me? I almost *feel* the regularity of his biology, just morning-tired a little, somewhat angry and worried. And vaguely attracted to me. As if he had an aura around himself telling me this… What the heck have I just been thinking?!? _What datacable?!?_

Am I _glitching?_ I grab my head in my hands and press firmly from both sides. The dim fog that fills it doesn’t really go away. It itches me to rub my neck, like when you get a new tattoo - you can’t scratch it not to damage it before it heals, and the feeling grows up to the level of obsession dragging your own hand to do it against your will... I withstand. I raise my head again and look at Martin with an effort. I get the feeling like I am not here or I am not real. Something is flowing in my veins. Something strange. It whispers to me and makes me blurry. Then I realise that he is still holding the coffee in a stretched out hand and is saying something. I focus to hear him speaking instead of hearing his heartbeat.

"...Eva you do not look so good, maybe you should go home...”

We are in my office after all. And as much as I am tired and falling off my feet I do not feel like going home. I feel like shit but do not feel like leaving. I have things to do. Everything hurts me but there is a compulsiveness in me which keeps me straight and obligated. Things to do. What things? Ahh. The looped monitoring. And I need back to the datacentre. But I cannot get caught anymore. This is all too heavy thinking for me.

I look at him apologetically trying to make my eyes look clear. I smile faintly. How do I know she is a *she*? A *woman*? Or a female, I should say… Isn’t that a human concept? Not a waterproof one in the first place. But she certainly is a kind of a she… we both have this in common and it is not the brain or the body, it is something vague and intangible that makes us both female. I *know* that.

An automatic reflection strikes me: I’m damn lucky. I work where she dwells. The greatest explore of my life. She is the building after all. Isn’t she?

“It’s all right.” - I collect my voice to phrase an audible, reasonable enunciation - “I got to finish... that query module we talked about the other day. Then I’ll go…” - It did not go so bad. I gaze at him a little longer and then add slowly - “Thanks… I really don’t know what happened”.

“What were you doing there at the datacentre, Eva? All alone at night...” - he would not give up. His voice echoes through my swollen skull - “It looked… strange.”

“I think… I worked late and I went there to check a mainframe error yesterday night. I must have fainted.” - I lie uncertainly in a weak voice, realizing how unconvincing I am saying this kind of obvious bullshit. I really could do better than that. As a last straw I choose the one thing men usually have not much idea about - “I’ve got a… ehm period” - I drown deeper in my explanations - “It can be pretty bad at times…” - I really do not want my voice to stagger. I am not at all good at direct lying. I am only good at not telling the truth. But lying to a person I like is a whole different thing....

He shakes his head, says something again but I hardly hear him, dizzy again, feeling the world going around me in a light sway as a stream of warm wet substance drips very very slowly along my spine. Blood? Am I bleeding again…? All the sharpness of my senses disappears with a sudden nausea, as if someone snapped their fingers and switched me off replacing the momentary clarity with a overwhelming weakness that makes me want to puke, like I had a massive hangover after a lonely night filled with wine and cheap cigarettes. I hold my belly discretely and he shakes his head but does not insist.

We exchange a few more words, he promises to come back in a bit, and then he is gone finally, looking back once more through the glass of my office door. Now I can get to work. My eyes are sticky and they close on their own without my permission. I still manage to open the systems and turn off the CCTV loop I must have set up last night. After moment of blurry, shaky idleness something makes me run the development environment and load an urgent project I started a few days ago.

Then I see it. My eyes go wide while my vascular system rushes the rests of my adrenaline up to my brain again wiping away the remains of my logical structures. Now I really *don’t know* if this is happening for real or am I already asleep, or maybe it is a dream or maybe I am still _*connected*_... I *do* feel how the blood stain on my back is now sticking my skin and my clothes together when I realize what I see in front of me.

The module I was supposed to work on stands *ready* on the screen, despite that I have not finished it or even worked half way through it. I scroll through just to understand how pristine and ingenious it is. Elegantly coded, neat and clean, short and sweet, like I could only dream of doing myself. There is something alien and brilliant about it. It would take me ages of corrections to come up with something like this myself, if I ever did find my way to such a perfection. And now it is here right before my eyes. I get a dim thought that it is unbelievable… That I have to spoil it a bit, introduce some complications, make it at least a bit lame, so that it becomes more realistic, less ideal. As this thought passes through me, or even before it really does reach me fully, my lips form into two mute words flowing into the surrounding air without my control:

“*Holy shit*”

And I see as the code changes and degrades itself, makes itself *worse* right in front of my eyes without me touching the keyboard. It just happens. Following my will… Then the terminal switches off of itself and the screens go black.

“Holy shit” - I repeat to myself.

The world goes round again and I suddenly know I seriously need to go home or else I will faint here and the blood from my neck will sink into the company chair and carpet. Now or never, before people start populating the office. Before anyone sees. Before I pass out... I put on my coat, grab my bag and sneak out…

Something happened this night and I need to understand. I need to sleep. _Recharge_ … to run my brain, to retrieve my logic. To wrap my head around it… To make it clear with myself if I hallucinated or did that happen for real. Now my judgement is impaired.

I slip out unnoticed, the elevator stands there as if it waited for me and when I run staggeringly through the main hall I glimpse over a security camera and I see how it turns around following me. _Shit_ I think but I continue out, feeling how all this has drained me, realising that I did not really sleep this night but something awfully strange has happened to my memory. My brain… _glitched._

Only in the subway I realise that the building did not ask any identification from me on the way out. It just let me through freely, opening all the doors before me like it was broken or… it knew exactly who I was.

When I reach home I cast the clothes down to the floor and I allow myself a few hazy moments naked in front of the bathroom mirror. I take a smaller mirror and try to examine my neck and back. There is surely some fresh blood, but very little. I move my hair aside and I see four little bite marks in my neck smeared with something else than blood, something blue. I wipe it off with my hand and I see metallic shining from under my skin. A few licks of bright blue dried paint flow down between my shoulderblades. I touch it, it feels like blood and it itches. I try to wash it, it goes off dissolving in water and escaping into the drains. _Shit, what is this crap, some kind of poison…?_ I manage to think, and with a last effort I throw myself naked into the unmade bed and I slip into nothingness.


	3. My Stranger Things

 

It is already dark outside when I wake up. At first I think it is early in the morning, but it’s not. I check the time. It is still night. I lie in my bed feeling how my whole body aches.

And I am *hungry*.

I realize that I haven't eaten for over… I don’t know how long. I did not even drink Martin’s coffee. I left it on my desk as he brought it, it must be cold now... I play with the thought what I would like to eat picturing tasty meals and tempting foods in my mind, but to my surprise, I do not feel like eating any of what I imagine. Well yes, I would technically eat something but it is something I cannot get hold of in my head. I have no idea what my body wants from me exactly. So in the end I stretch my bones a little and feel into the pillows and sheets of the bed. They are soft and warm, they smell of sleep and safety. I rub my cheek into the pillow and inhale a deep doze of the musky scent of the night. It finally eases my lungs and relaxes my muscles. And so, I fall into slumber again. I dream strange dreams which I remember only slightly but they seem oddly familiar.

I dream of a place of metal and stone. There are no trees and no grass. Nothing is green and nothing seems alive. Debris everywhere, great, dead metal structures, torn and twisted abominations of buildings as if hit by horrible explosions, bombarded, destroyed. They are stretching up their bent metal pillars with bits of concrete hanging off steel rods that look like dead branches, flowers and leaves. A cosmic post-war landscape… like the one on pictures that my very old neighbour and a foster-grandmother showed me - her city and my hometown bombed and burnt to the ground when enemy was retreating after the Second World War, leaving nothing but death and fire behind. Almost a century ago… With the difference that on those pictures everything was made of brick and not of metal…

The dream, or the comparison it built in my mind, gives me goose bumps although it is not cold. I turn around in my bed restlessly, from the left to the right and back, my body aches, my head swells inside and there isn’t a position that gives me comfort. I am not sure if I even sleep or just snooze. Or am I plainly hallucinating…? My limbs feel like implants and my heart seems to speed up and slow down randomly. The picture of war-torn city sticks to me imprinted under my eyelids, irritating my eyes like grains of sand that cannot be removed.

When I finally wake up it is morning for real. I can’t sleep anymore. I feel heavy and swollen, but not the way when someone is tired, or has drunk too much, or gained more fat on the belly. I feel *literally* heavy. I get up finally, reluctantly, and I go to the bathroom. Led by an impulse I pull a scale out from under the sink and I stand on it. I can't believe my eyes. I am twice my weight. I step down and restart the scale. I try again. Same result. I am as slim as usual and there is no sign where this whole mass of my body has come from. I look as usual or even thinner, intense gym helps to hide excess weight inside the muscles. The scale must be broken.

Then my eyes drift to the clothes soaked with blood and the blue liquid from the wound on my neck. My thoughtless body bends down and fetches the shirt from the floor. It is all smeared in the dried bluish fluid that leaked from my back. _This is what I want._ And the in same thoughtless way as I picked it up, I start gnawing on the blue dried substance that tastes metallic and a little bittersweet. It bites my tongue slightly and wakes a real hunger in me. I almost chew the cloth to pieces but there is so little of it. Not enough. Aaaawwww…

Then my brain wakes up for real. That is, my mind realizes what I am doing and how mindless and irrational I have been so far. A flood of mixed up and unclear memories from the morning and night fills me all at once. I stagger a little and go slow steps to sit on the bed again. Still chewing on a bit of my clothing from yesterday I try to *think*, but the only thing I am able to squeeze out of myself is how hungry I am and that I cannot really focus. So I get up again and get dressed.

It is Saturday morning. I ignore 15 unanswered calls on my phone from yesterday. I will deal with them later. I just do not even want to imagine how much I will have to explain myself. I force myself to have some breakfast instead, stuff myself with proteins, carbohydrates and fiber, but the hunger doesn’t cease to haunt me. It squeezes and twists my bowels, it blurs my head. I walk around the flat restlessly trying to do some things, finally I turn the computer on and play some music. My eyes slide over the VPN icon and after a few more considerations I finally log in. I open the tunnel and my fingers dance on the keyboard almost trembling, as if I were addicted, as if there was some kind of a fever burning inside me… Fear? Curiosity?

I storm into my drives and my accounts just to confirm: all my work is *done* and it just waits for me to submit it to whom it may concern. The level of perfection is lower than previously, as if the ghost worker learned that too good is no good, but still what it did is not even possible for me to imagine achieving. Like if it understood that it was beyond my dream capabilities, and somewhat tried to adjust but did not grasp my true limitations… or still wanted to please me with a gift. _A courting gift…_ \- it crosses my head and I facepalm at the thought. What has come over me? A _courting gift,_ and yesterday night, was that a _*date*_? Seriously?

I rub my sleepy eyes and I clench my fists irrationally. What’s wrong with me…?

Anyway - I try to collect my thoughts - she… someone... did it. How come? Or was it Martin who coded it for me and then miraculously put it on my dev environment and is now playing games with me out of sympathy or failed romance which we never pursued properly? But Martin could not have done it. He is a datacentre technician, not a proper software developer. Not even close to be able to do or understand what I see in front of me.

In slow motion I lean back on my computer chair and hear it screeching strangely under my weight. I look down to see how it bends unnaturally. Then I get up and step back to the bathroom, drag the scale from under a closet and weigh myself again: same result. The mirror says nothing. I am slim and… my eyes seem to be somewhat shiny. I close them, turn the light off and look again. The bathroom is filled with a slight blue glow. From the only possible source. My eyes.

I close them again and take a deep breath. I don’t want to see it. But then, when they are closed I see the war torn city imprinted under my eyelids again. Something in me wants to scream and run. Away from it all! Or to wake up, for real now. I do nothing for a minute, but it does not help. The state of play is what it is, things seem not to want to change upon my wishes. I take another deep breath and leave the bathroom even more confused.

Finally I get dressed, grab the keys and walk out.

It is Saturday and early enough for the office floors to be almost totally empty. The identification chamber lets me in obediently as if all the biometrics matched, including my weight. So maybe I hallucinated. Maybe I was dreaming or my scale is broken. _Most likely so_ , I’m telling myself... I walk across the empty corridor straight to the server room and close the heavy metal door behind me. I lock in the security sequence hoping I won't be disturbed. With a mixture of hope and fear I step behind the racks and search along the floor for the place where Martin found me sleeping last time. This time I do it consciously. I know what I am doing. Looking for this… this thing that stung me in the neck. The bloody alien connector cable. I feel along the floor paneling with my hands as if it was supposed to give me a sign.

It does. I find a looser panel right by the last rack and below an air conditioning machinery outlet. I remove it carefully. It goes off surprisingly easily, without the usual slight resistance. I put it aside and see inside the dark space underneath, next to a ventilation duct that opens in front of me. At first it looks like nothing but then when my eyes re-adjust from the brightness of the white paneled datacenter walls to the dark of the vent, I can see there actually is something… A strange thick segmented cable lies deeper inside rolled up like a snake. Almost reminding of a fire hose, but strangely glowing a very faint, almost invisible glow. So this is it…

I reach out slowly to touch it. First nothing happens. I open my palm and try to grab it in my hand, to move it a bit to the light and see better. I am not sure what it is and what eventually should I do. Unwrap it? To my surprise the cable feels warm to the touch, and though wrapped in a metal, segmented casing, it is a little velvety, rubbery and insulated with something delicate in between the sections. I hold it a moment or two until I slowly try to gently pull it towards me.

Then suddenly… no, not suddenly at all, it *moves* in my hand. Whether I want it or not, I jump up as if I got struck by a lightning, pulling my hand back and covering my mouth ready to squeak of fear and surprise. The cable freezes in place, in half-a-movement as soon as I take my hand away. _Wait…_ I quickly gather myself together and gaze back in. My curiosity is stronger than fear. Possibly stronger than anything else. I lean back to the black square hole. I reach in… and I touch it again. It just lies there, but I have a feeling that it moves just on a verge of perception and this time I am not scared. I draw my hand across its surface more confidently and I realize its gentle pulsing. As if there was a vein inside going through. As if it was made of some sort of flesh. As of it was alive…

While I blunt-stare at it, the cable starts moving again really delicately. First it slowly unwinds a bit under my hand, like a snake or a sleeping cat, then the part where my hand lies lifts itself slightly, slow by slow leading my hand up. Up… a little more up and outside, up above the floor level... I do not escape this time, holding my hand on to it with my heart banging inside me and my eyes wide open. It obviously tries to reach... my neck. Or is it me in fact leading it there? I keep holding it after all... To test the hypothesis of the neck bite… _Synergy…_ _symbiosis_. Yes, it must be me, I raise it and it follows, right to the back of my head, finding the itchy vampire bite marks… I direct it a little more before there is no more doubt, and it takes over. It finds its way. And it bites in with a metallic click.

It doesn't hurt at all. Instead the feeling is amazing. The moment it connects everything starts to seem to be in the right place. All discomfort disappears...  I am *feeding*…!!! Literally, I feel my hunger being fulfilled just in a few moments already. Something is pouring into my system and I feel it filling me with a very special sensation of warmth and satiation and safety, satisfying my hunger, the hunger of my veins and my muscles, the mysterious craving and starvation embedded and growing within the substance of my body… It makes me dizzy for a short moment, I feed on it greedily, impatiently, excessively, I almost forget where I am, who I am, as if I did not eat for days, months, ages... I gasp for air, I do not feel any taste in my dried out mouth as the substance goes directly to my system, to my veins…

This much I know and I almost choke at the realisation but I am too weak to do anything about it… I am too hungry. So I let it go. I let the connection take me over. I slowly sit down on the floor lean my back against a rack, leaving enough space behind me for the cable to hang freely.

I am *connected*.

To something I deem is alive. To something I believe is *her*. The one that has been talking to me in my head and the one that did my work for me, the one who opened the doors before me, winked at me with elevator lights and who hummed windy songs to me during the long lonely office evenings…

So what is it that happened, again?

I did it myself. I came here and I plugged the cable from the floor, that has even no right of existence, straight into my neck. It could be a set-up, it could be a trap... My mind wanders triggered with bizarre impulses in a volatile way, totally unplanned and uncontrolled things plant themselves in my head. Some of them are mine and some I do not recognize.  As if I were a computer myself and some mysterious data transfers were open sending me information that I cannot decode and do not comprehend…

I cannot name it or even put it clearly together in my imagination, but at the same time all the bad, the anxious and the sad matter from my brain seems to evaporate. It floats away on the waves of some internal music that is playing in my head, cleansing me until I become void… like an ocean. Like the space… up above the building, filled with distant stars but empty at the same time. Simultaneously I feel how heavy I am, like made of concrete or of steel. I am falling inside myself, in my own personal black hole, my body is engraving into everything around me. I cannot move, my hands are too heavy to lift and my head presses into the wall paneling...

I gain a weird consciousness of myself and everything around me. I contemplate the fingertips and the very end of my spine, and I feel how hair grow on my head and how my chest rises and falls in regular waves of breathing… I hear voices of people outside on the street, 45 floors down, I literally know what they are saying… Their sounds cut through all the other floors, through all the other voices that circle around me, but I still discern them.

And though the photocell turned off the lights a few minutes earlier already, I am still able to see through the dark, sense the shapes and the colours and the blinking lights of the mainframes blind me almost in the contrast with the darkness… My eyes *shine* for real. They release their own shady light, hardly discernible, but they *do* shine and I can tell the verges of shadows of the racks and metal shelves full of bulky hardware and cables casting ghostly shapes over walls and the ceiling following the light from my eyes… The shadows move as I move my eyes, escaping my vision whenever I try to see them better, because I am the source of this shining and I understand that distance between my eyes is just too small to ever really see them…

I watch myself and my own reaction like from a distance and maybe it all would make my head go round if I did not feel peculiarly calm letting myself sit there and intake what is given. So this is what it is… Strangely enough, not able to focus on anything in particular, I just *let* myself fall into it and relax.

Only after some good time I begin to realize that it is not just feeding, shining and chaos that I experience. It is communication. She is trying to tell me something, much more than I can still comprehend. In a patient manner, she tries to pass a message, to get across to me. She forms some patterns in my head that seem to be sounds or thoughts, that gain consistency the longer I sit here and let her feed me. I still do not grasp it, but... I break my motionless spell, reach out with my hand and touch gently the cable that is attached to my neck. It pulses under my fingers, and it is warm the way the skin on my arm is warm. Is that her arm that is holding me in her grip?...

I close my eyes and focus. It all must have a purpose. Why would it happen otherwise? So far she spoke to me in basic binary code. I understood that… to an extent. Maybe now I should also try to go this way, maybe I should try something more complex? Because she is capable of far more complex things… I saw it already. She even understood me speaking. But am I able, capable to do the same? To understand her speaking? I push my intellect again, with a vain effort, but I do not give up. I’m thinking, sweating my brain cells, knitting my brows, biting my nails and the skin on my lips… It is so close, at the tip of my tongue. I feel I’m getting tired but I don’t give up twisting my brain. It is so close… As close as the moaning of the wind on the building’s glass surface at night… So close as the humming of the datacentre aircon, as the music of the rain outside on the window panes, right on the other side of the glass. After all I have almost read and understood it before… in my tired brainless moments of meditation, when I did not focus or analyse, she *was* speaking to me that language already. I just have to listen. Keep my shiny eyes shut and try to forget everything. Try to breathe slow and let the warm circulation calm me down again. It is almost there… somewhere close. I just can’t… I just can’t…

When I’m almost ready to give in, it suddenly strikes me: loud and clear, out of my logic, out of the blue, standing right in my thoughts, in a form of knowledge, formless and shapeless but well understood, existing plainly inside my brain:

~/Hi Eva, I’ve been waiting for you/~

My eyes open wide, they almost pop out from their sockets, I literally jump up while still sitting and I hit my head against a rack, while my sudden movement activates the datacentre light again. All my weakness is gone as the adrenaline rush takes over, while the flood of fluorescent white invades my eyes and all hair on my arms stand up like an army of warriors risen from the dead.

“Holy fuck!” - I choke out astonished. - “I can hear you!” - I look frantically around and then I whisper to myself, to her, to the mainframes and the air around - “It’s all good. All good. Good…” - I look around again still uncertain, not believing the communication that took place just now I grab that cable in my hand and squeeze it hard as if to believe that it is there in fact - “I … think … I’ve … learnt to hear you...” - I utter again out of my depth.

~/Eva, you’re choking my feeler, and you have really got an iron grip as for such a small creature.../~

“Eh??” - I let it go automatically and overwhelmed I look at my hand, then at the cable, just to  see the place where I was holding is indeed bent in a little. I look back at my hand and release a short hysterical laughter that silences as fast as it emerged.

~/Thank you/~

“I’m sorry” - I reply - “Was it that strong?”

I bet I can understand her laughing in her strange brainwave-based language that flows just right across me without touching the air around us with any sound waves.

~/Yes, it was really strong/~

“I’m sorry” - I repeat stupidly again. - “I did not mean to”.

~/Don’t worry. I have to brace for more pain anyway. If you… would be willing to let me out from here/~

“Let you out…” - I repeat after her - “Yes, I understood this… before” - I say gathering my thoughts at the same time. - “I… think I promised you this already… _Sparklight_ ” - I use her name and things suddenly feel easier and more familiar. I relax slightly.

~/Right now I am… disabled. But my processor and my sensory network are working. Thanks to a bug I managed to get one feeler free. But not more than that can be moved… that is out of my real body.../~

“You can steer the building security” - I say with a slight dose of disbelief.

~/I can access most of your software in here/~

“You did my homework for me”

~/It is boring to sit locked in the floor like that… and after all you are sort of… my only friend around here/~

This shakes me a bit. Only now I realize what she is actually saying. And what an overall meaning it has to me.

(1) I still have no idea what she is but she’s obviously got a body. A “real body”... as she calls it.  
(2) It’s stuck in the floor or the building itself and she cannot use it. Probably for very long.  
(3) What she says to me doesn’t seem alien at all, she expresses herself like… well, like a normal person, save for that she does not literally *say* anything. This point shocks me after all the lofty visions and imaginary depths I experienced so far. She is... reassuringly normal. No “Stranger Things” for me? No “Iron Giant”-like learning-reality-phase to it? What is she? What does she know? I look at the feeler leading from the wall to myself and I change my mind again. Loads of “Stranger Things” ahead... But what the fuck. I’m in it already...   
I come back to my mental bullet points.  
(4) I promised to set her free.  
(5) I honestly *want* to set her free and I am curious of her as hell.  
(6) I have no fucking idea how to do it and where to start.  
The nightly office and all my promises flow in front of my eyes for a moment.

“Right” - I say - “Let me have a look.”

I sit back on the floor massaging my head with one hand where I hit it while I slowly look back to the black vent hole where her feeler stretches out from. I carefully reach out with the other back into the vent. The shining of my eyes is enough to see in the dark inside, and I follow the cable and touch along the floor box where it comes from. There seems to be quite a big, metal box built in inside, fixed firmly and damaged around the location where the cable structure sticks out.

~/Yes, right this way/~

It seems like she freed the cable out of that box. The surface is a bit battered and bent around it, with some sharp edges and bits of cardboard and plaster lying below, like if she tried to dig it out herself from her confinement, but something prevented her from unlocking the frames she was caged in. I crawl deeper to the vent as much as its narrow size allows me to reach towards the other end of the box.

“Is that… is that you?” - I ask shyly.

~/Yes… That is me, shortly said. A form of me. I’m in it...  Will you be able to get it out?/~

“How the hell did you end up here?” - I ask this question almost automatically.

~/I have no access to most of my memory.../~

“You don’t know?”

~/No, but I know how I’m structured. I can try to help, but mostly I’m powerless in this form… I tried already.../~

I nod my head. I can see that she tried.

“Damned if I don’t get you out of here” - I say with a level of determination.  - “Just let me figure out how!”

~/You’ll need to disconnect me. To… cut me off the matter of the building./~

“What do you mean exactly?” - I ask but I know already.

~/Disconnect my sensory system from the building. I’ll give you instructions.../~

I look critically at the gaping floor box and into the vent again. This is gonna be a whole lot of digging. I have no tools and I weigh the chances of someone popping in here at this time of the day, even if it is Saturday.

“I will need to get some things that will help me release you. To prepare... “ - I’m thinking intensely as I speak - “Can you wait a little longer? I’ll come back at night”.

I feel wordless confirmation from her. One more day won't change nothing if she waited forever... I raise my hand to my neck and touch the end of the cable. As if guessing what I need, the cable just disconnects and winds back to the black vent hole. My hand stays a moment longer at my neck. I touch the place of connection with my fingers and feel at the four little metal sockets to which the cable was attached just a moment ago. They are there. Not bleeding anymore. Hard and solid. Not at all painful. Real. _Mine…_

I am not sure if she can talk to me while the cable is not connected, but I say nevertheless:

“It will be better if I go now… I will be back tonight” - I turn to her again nodding my head to the floor as if someone was standing there. A ghost. My ghost. _Sparklight_ …

Then I put the panel back in place and walk out of the datacentre. Something almost indiscernible, a thought, a flash, an impression flows through my brain when I cross the door on the way out.

~/I’ll be waiting. I’ll owe you forever./~

My steps sound metallic on the insulated floor as the door close behind me with a click.

I am not hungry anymore.


	4. Breathe In

 

I rush home. The “to do” list in my head is getting longer and longer with all types of tools and things I will need to dig the box out of the floor, clean up after the whole operation and steal it away from there. I know only two dimensions of the casing, what if the third one is unproportionally long? What if it is very heavy? She called me a _small creature_ for some reason. Maybe I a slim but I am not really small. For a woman at least… What does it mean _I will need to cut her out of the building system_? I expect cables and wires, but what if she has these… _veins_ … with this blue thing flowing in them, connected to the infrastructure?

I’m almost running, uneasy and excited. The brief conversation with the Strangest Thing I Have Ever Met replays inside my head like a broken record. Is she AI? She’s got hardware for sure..  But what is her hardware? Has someone built her? Is this something experimental created inside our building and I am going to regret severely messing with the unknown? She is conscious, thinking and… nice. How was the connection possible? What is this thing in my neck that she connected to? What was the drug she fed me with?

I am so consumed with thoughts that I almost do not see anything around me. I do not see Martin either when I practically bump into him on the way out from the building.  

“Ho ho ho” - he says like some ribald Santa and he blocks my way by standing in the door.

“Oh, hi” - I reply quickly and try to bypass him but he steps to the same side as me, teasing me like a boy on a kindergarten playground.  

“What’s the rush?”

“No rush” - I lie unconvincingly - “I worked a little to make up for yesterday.”

“You did not call back. Kirsten was calling you ten times, you were needed at the office.”

“Sorry, I did not feel well and I fell asleep.”

“No wonder, spending a night at the datacentre is not good for you.” - he smirks - “I told her you were sick. If you were smart you would have called back or at least answered her text”.

“I found her email and replied” - I say. And that is the truth. Before rushing to work in the morning I checked a few mails… And reported a ready software package for the testers crew to run it on staging. - “You needn’t worry”.

“Good for you” - he goes on in a sarcastic voice. - “So what do you plan on doing now? You look grim… Another one-night stand with the datacentre hardware?”  

A momentary nasty strain grips the flesh on my forearms and inside my bowels. The comment is both clever, unpleasant and scary. He’d better not be so interested in the datacentre, at least not until tonight. I shiver. Something in me wants him out of my eyes as soon as possible so I make another try to go past. He moves to block my way again and I almost bump into him. But this time I am annoyed enough and I impulsively push him away. He bends in half, releases a strange groan and I realize that I have almost thrown him on the floor. He stands there for a few moments looking at me with big eyes and massaging his ribs in the place where I barely touched him.

“Geez, why so serious!” - he exhales finally in a throaty voice - “Gym is obviously good for you, what has come over you? I know you are strong, you don’t have to show off this way.”

I look at my hands and at him again.

“I have not… I’m sorry” - I stutter. - “I.... am tired and a bit annoyed. I worked a lot and… I did not mean to… Please don’t tease me.”

“Yeah” - he pulls an ironic face - “Indeed. I tried to save your sorry ass in front of Kirsten.”

“Yes you did.” - I admit and look at him with a strange discomfort inside - “Thank you for that. Martin… Now I got to run. Talk to you soon...”

I shove off down to the subway just across the pavement before he manages to react. I do not look back.

Only in the underground train my adrenaline level falls a bit and it starts coming to me with what kind of strength I pushed Martin to the floor, not realizing that in the first place. I look at my reflection in the window on the other side of the metro car. Double glass makes my face look blurry and somewhat strange. More squarish shapes, sharper cheekbones, the line of my mouth not soft anymore, it looks like one of an animal and I could expect a set of sharp teeth to hide behind the lips. I stare at myself and at some point my eyes trick me even harder. It is no longer myself in the mirror but a matte black face of metal. My eyes leave two, clearly red, shiny dots doubled by the glass of the window pane reminding of laser pointer rays wrapped in blue auroles of light filling my unearthly eyes. It is a face of a demon, framed with my hair and the coat’s hood. My God…I close my eyes and do not open them until I hear the name of my station. - “The National Stadium” - I hear - “The door open to the left. Mind the gap”. - I get up and walk out with the intention not to look at myself in the window, but I cannot resist.

I glance quickly, and I see my own face, the real one, but… with the eyes of the demon.

Glowing blue with red shiny dots in the middle.

“Is that your face, Sparklight?” - the words just escape my mouth and I get scared of myself again in this short time.

* * *

 

The whole day I have been thinking about everything from the start to the end. I was analysing what happened, what I saw, what I heard in my head. I analysed scrupulously the bite marks on my neck that turned out to be metal sockets. I weighed myself, tried to lift my barbells (childishly light, somehow I was not surprised anymore) and I looked into my eyes. I replayed every word in my memory that she, the building’s AI spirit, said, even the tone of her words, if there could really be any. I reconsidered three times all the recent dreams I remembered, and I smelled and tasted again the piece of clothing that I tried to consume so greedily in the morning. I recalled the demon face I saw in the subway. Then I sat 15 minutes on my balcony doing nothing, just smoking one cigarette after another until I had enough. Not thinking anything at all anymore.

Saturday night. Party time. In a few moments I am off for the worst security breach that ever happened at my workplace. - “Hello Kitty!” - I grin to the world. Time to get going. I walk around my apartment, check everything, water the flowers, close the windows… Just in case… of what? In case they arrest me? Someone kills me? Or I go fully insane… and do not come back for longer. Or forever?

* * *

 

It is already late night or very early morning when I get there. I arrive by car to the underground parking lot, equipped with some tools to help me dismantle Sparklight’s entrapment. I park discreetly outside of the reach of the cameras which I know very well for obvious reasons.

Using the privileges granted by the weekend night emptiness I enter the datacentre again without meeting anyone on my way. I’ve hacked the security system again the same way I did before. Prepped with all the tools, my logic and my raging imagination, I approach the place where I last time “made the contact” with her. I sit down on the floor in front of the panel next to the air conditioning machinery and the vent duct where the mysterious cabling reached out to connect me. I sit a minute or two in silence and then I say quietly:

“Hey… are you in?”...

Silence. Nothing moves. An expected disappointment rises inside me like an avalanche. I seem to realize just in seconds how delusional I am, that there must be something very wrong with me. My heart shrinks slowly because I really do not want this to be a lie, I want to believe, and I… she was always there before, and now, on this exceptional day, when I did my homework and decided to free her for real, nothing happens.

“Sparklight?” - I start again afraid to open the panel and see nothing inside.

“Sparklight… I have come as I promised… to give it a try… to set you free” - I say in an uncertain voice. She remains silent and my heart sinks even deeper - “I… I have been thinking about you and I have a plan” - I continue as if into the empty air, getting a scary feeling that I actually might have gone crazy and all this I believed just clearly never happened, maybe in my dreams. An unpleasant bump starts growing in my throat. I look bluntly at the dead floor tile and digest a storm of self-punishing thoughts lurking at the back of my mind and jumping on me from the dark corners. This all lasts maybe half a minute but all my internals freeze and my thoughts start hitting my head remorselessly shouting at myself: _You delusional child, you stupid loser, you hopeless dreamer, you failed megalomaniac, you lost idiot, you you you…_

~/Hi Eva. Sorry, I got detached. I was… sleeping, is that what you call it? _/~_

I almost jump scared and filled with ridiculous joy. I rip the panel off with one swift movement, without further thinking to dim my mind. I look into the vent and the tentaclish structure slips out and I could bet that it looks at me with no eyes.

“Yes… we sleep… and even we say that about computers… they go to sleep too... ” - I reply overjoyed in a stupid happy voice, as if my dreams came true and I had to explain myself about the too much goodness.

I reach out my hand and impulsively touch the top of the feeler as if it were a head of a cat or a snake. I literally *stroke* it while I hear her again.

~/I’m not a computer although I might resemble one/~ I feel her convinced transmission ~/Computers do not think or feel/~

The datacable slips slowly around my hand.

“What are you then?”

~/I am a person/~

“A person?”

~/A person.../~ the cable, still tangled around my hand, slips down into my backpack and little tendrils emerge from its tip to fumble with the top flap. They try to open it and sneak in like paws of a curious ferret. The tentacle that spirals around my forearm is warm and strangely soft, I am no longer sure what it is made of… as if I were any sure ever at all.

 _You cannot imagine how curious I am to find out what you are._ \- I almost verbalise in my thoughts, saying instead - “Ok, so I got some tools and things, we will try to dismantle this entanglement… if you have any hints, what should I do or avoid…”

~/I know… I am curious myself/~

“Huh?” - I stop in the middle of my movement unpacking the backpack on the floor.

~/Not only you are curious of me, I am curious of myself too. I do not remember who I am precisely. I only know my technical build, but I cannot say I remember what I look like when I transform. Not exactly. I know I will remember once it unblocks. I am not fully functional now, but when I transform I may remember something… /~ her feeler looks at me for a moment longer observing as my jaw is sliding down and my eyes go dry and big of staring.

“What have you just said?” - I mumble with my suddenly twisted tongue.

~/Transform… Change shape... It is hard to explain… I haven't seen anyone here doing that.../~

“Not this” - I protest - “You heard what I was thinking???” _Or have I said it aloud?_

~/You say some things using your air vents and some without them, just transmitting them, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t mind that. But I can’t know what you’re thinking. I can hear only what you tell me/~

“... How the heck???”

A moment of motionless, surprised silence falls heavily like a dense morning mist. It is me being astonished and her… being curious now? I feel this curiosity and I know simply it is hers. Like she were glowing with it.

~/Why, is it strange?/~ she looks at me attentively although I know she’s got no eyes.

Then, slowly, the warm cable unwinds off from my hand and slides behind me. I feel its presence right across my back. Damn, are you a freakin Venom or what, an alien symbiote who wants to share resources with me - a fleshy earthly creature… You want back, and back again inside my body, and I... will let you in again. Of course I will let you in. Haven’t I been waiting for this all day today?

~/May I?/~ she asks kindly about the obvious, cutting my thoughts.

I just nod without a word, thinking to her with a thrill in my spine: _Bite in._

And she literally bites in. A stream of warmth runs across my body spreading evenly. I realize that I actually really like this connection. It is pleasant and it feels like home. It makes me feel like I want to curl around this cable-thing of hers and just fall asleep as if in a mother’s womb…

But this time she does not let me rest. We have advanced in our communication since these few days that have passed and this time it seems not to be about any dreamy vague attempts to understand little bits and pieces. Now it is for serious. A new sensation cuts off my momentary softness. A data stream invades my mind with information. Like a sudden revelation, it flows a river through me. It floods me, like dense, spicy, oily red wine making my head go round. In the first moment, I don't even know what is going on. I just slump down on the floor grabbing at the nearest rack with my hand as if I were drunk and needed to hold on to something. I can hear my breath from a distance, heavy and torn. If I have been running for the last hour at least I still wouldn’t breathe that way…

But, strangely, this breath lets me detach and I just allow the data pass me, or rather next to me and I become a spectator of my own one man show. Me on the floor, sitting on my heels among some tools chaotically spread on the small surface of the floor around me, sloppy, head hanging down, hair covering my face, one hand on the rack framing, the other holding on to Sparklight’s feeler, a strange cable escaping my neck down to a black vent hole in the floor… A heroine of my own dream… How… how can I see me from the outside this way? I raise my head up and my eyes look frantically at the corner of the room, right into the eyes of a security camera. Our eyes meet and I experience an unimaginary loop, a feedback feeling of looking right into my own eyes. Deep deep down into my own eyes…

My blood freezes for a second and the transmission makes me even more dizzy forcing its own heat into me as I whisper almost inaudibly: - “The monster face… I saw in the underground… was it you?”

~/What did you see, Eva?/~ she replies softly and my eyes stare at me with even greater intensity.

I do not answer but falter a bit more for a second or two.

“No… nothing”

~/Listen/~ she says to me in a soft calming transmission ~/I have sent you the instruction. Rest a little, focus and you should be able to decode it. This is how you cut me off from the building system./~ she says it slowly, with consideration, thoughtfully. ~/Sorry I overloaded you for a moment, I was not sure what was your system capacity… You need to rest a bit./~

 _Rest…_ I almost say the thought as my brain cramps painfully, like sun-heated muscles thrown into cold forest lake water in one sudden stupid jump.

~/Yes…/~ she says it even softer and the warmth from the neck starts to spread around my fainting body again ~/Rest and breathe, you forget your oxygen input and your cellular combustion is failing… it hurts your processor/~

_My processor…_

~/Yes. Just stop thinking now, give yourself five minutes/~ now her transmission is so incredibly soft and calm like warm bed sheets and pillows on a lazy sleepy morning, like early sun spreading its rays at me through a shady mist, like melodic music of wind stroking young spring tree leafs, like a smell of sun-warmed skin, like… I melt down and only half register how that feeler of her unclicks from my neck and embraces me delicately not letting me fall on the ground but leaning me softly against the wall. I only feel it, because my super external sight disappears the moment she disconnects, yet I still feel the warm substance injected by her floating around in my _system_ , and _it is the sweetest of drugs I have ever tasted_.

~/It is not a drug. It is energon. It is blood/~ she explains and I am not surprised anymore that I can still hear her and that she can hear my thoughts likewise.

~/What on earth is enegon?/~ I utter without opening my mouth in the midst of the overwhelming softness that embraces me. _Bloody Venom, invading my veins, what kind of poison you are…_

~/Energon, you know, blood and food/~ she explains as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

~/If you are not well… I can wait until you are ready. You got the schemes now. You just need to check. You will know what to do./~

I raise my head as she lets go the embrace of her datacable.

~/No, no, no…/~ something in me protests. - “Just let me think a moment” - and I bite my lips with my teeth and dive into my brain.

A set of complex schemes. A process diagram. A whole load of things that aren’t words but are algorithms and codes. All the kind of crap I have been working with but less clear and completely entangled. I close my eyes.

~/Are you sure you are ready?/~

“I’m sure”

~/Let me help you decode the data/~

She says it and in no time she is back in place, or more precisely, she re-connects swiftly and easily, this time not causing any shock, but adapting gently to my own flow of thoughts and brainwave activity…

Goddamn  _symbiote…_

I slowly shake the remains of my previous reaction off, as I... as we… as the both of us - me and my Venom - examine and analyse everything I received from her in the previous session. We try to compare it with what I’m seeing in front of me. The vent, the box embedded in the building structure, the way it is attached… all the connectors, the cuts that need to be made, sequences to be pursued... I can feel how she helps me comprehend it, how she patiently  _explains_ me everything without any words, even without using thoughts themselves. She just clears my mind… and plants logic in it, mathematics that allow me to go through something as complex as her diagrams.

Finally, I get to work. I reach into the hole under the rack, squeezing myself in a somewhat uncomfortable position allowing me to unscrew the front casing what I would have otherwise thought to be part of aircon machinery. Then I crawl deeper inside, right to the box that is supposed to be her. I fight with a metal plate covering the main part from the front and in order to move it at all, I have to clear away a bit of adjacent plasterboard covering.

This is not going to be easy… or clean. For a few minutes I fight methodically with the metal and concrete structures, led by her silent guidance, supported by her comforting presence, and grateful to my own experience in renovation of my apartment from a few years ago.

After some efforts and having made some real mess of plaster bits and cables, I get the box to move a bit from its place. Just a few millimeters for now, but finally I can clearly see what I’m dealing with. It is not so big, though bigger than the size of a regular old-school PC casing, but still not unmanageable. It seems to be hellishly heavy as if it was a solid block of steel, but strangely enough, I am also stronger than I could have expected. The weight of my body seen on my bathroom scale flashes in front of my eyes for a second, but I push the thought away. I will deal with it later. I should focus now…

It takes a good effort to move it just a few centimeters more towards me. It is blocked, connected all around to its surrounding. There are dozens of electricity links, and all kinds of cables are hardwired to the box from all sides. They lead out to the unknown, disappearing into the depth of plastic, concrete and metal forming the matter of the floor and the walls of the building…

I go through the schemes with her clear help which materialises in the form of clarity of mind and extraordinary alien logic ordering my thinking. It all goes well, but then she breaks my so far undisturbed thought stream with a new verbal-like communication:

~/Remember, don’t stop working even if I pass out. You will know what to do. You will remember the schemes. Just continue what your logic tells you/~

Pass out? What does she mean pass out? Can she pass out? Like me, like us, humans? Can a metal box pass out? It disquiets my so far calm composure, I hesitate for a moment looped in these words, while she continues:

~/You need to cut *everything* off and get me out of here. You might receive a signal of pain from me, and I might bleed energon. If you feel any pain from me it means I stopped controlling my signalling and you *must* undock/~

“Undock?”

~/...disconnect yourself from me, or it will hurt too much and it might knock you out as well. I am sorry for that. Just do whatever it takes. I am used to pain./~

“Pain?” - I tilt my head encasing all my crowded questions in that single word.

~/Pain…  _a_   _distressing signal caused by intense or damaging stimuli, otherwise defined as an unpleasant sensory and emotional experience associated with actual or potential tissue damage_ … /~ she explains what needn’t be explained while I open my mouth in awe for the n-th time this day. ~/I checked on Wikipedia  _:)_ /~ she adds putting a forced smile at the end of the sentence to top up my impression. ~/I was not sure if I used the right expression.../~

“You checked on Wikipedia?” - I cannot hide my disbelief.

~/Yes, I wanted to name what I feel. It occurred necessary in the course of learning your ways of communication/~

_My ways of communication? And how on Earth is that my way of communication? Talking to me in my head…_

“You don’t cease to surprise me” -  I murmur to myself but she only nods invisibly in her yet another  _way of communication_ the existence of which I cannot prove, but she does not reply this time.

The schematics run in front of my eyes, or more precisely - deep inside my head - showing which cables to cut. Cut. Literally cut. Not unplug, unscrew, nothing of that sort. But just cut. Take a knife, shears, pliers, and cut. Off.

These cables seem to be ingrown, through-grown, grown over and across the substance of the box that is her. Jesus Christ, what have I gotten myself into… What if I really feel her pain? She says she knows what it is. She even checked for the proper definition... It sounds dramatic enough for me to have it hard to swallow. All my previous calmness is gone suddenly.  _A distressing signal caused by damaging stimuli, associated with actual or potential tissue damage…_ True. This is what pain truly is. And she says she is used to pain… I wonder…

I look at everything and analyse the wires and cables sticking out of the metal container I am supposed to release from the hole under the datacentre floor tile. I run through her schematics again. She seems to be underlining one last file as important to remember. I look at it for a longer while then I  _*save* it to my *hard drive*_ for later.

Now to follow the order she implied…

“Are you ready?”

My Venom nods silently. She is ready, I know it. I feel it in my veins.

I take insulated wire pliers and make the first cut. Everything is normal. I can’t feel a thing change in her communication. She is there, present, calm, connected. Silent but working with me. I make the second cut, and the third… A thought passes my mind about all the alarms I may possibly trigger and I wonder if it would not be safer to turn the power from the datacentre support systems off. I dismiss the idea as insane and even more dangerous. I feel her soothing me with a flush of logic why it’s ok not to cut the datacentre power supply. How does she know what I am thinking? _Goddamn symbiote…_ Despite her calming transmission I feel sweat on my forehead forming into tiny drops...

 _Shit, shit_ \- my subconsciousness protests against my Venom’s suspicious rationalisations - I can be in huge trouble in no time in case anything of what I am now doing causes a short-circuit, power outage, or fire… even a tiniest imbalance in the datacentre subsystems will trigger an alert to the duty shift of technicians... So, if what I am doing is noticed… Well, it will be noticed, but it would be so much better if I got out of here first. Why haven’t I thought about all this before? Mamma mia... I take a deep breath.  _Do it! Finish what you’ve started -_ something inside me urges with impatience -  _You’re in a deep shit anyway. You’ve made your choices already. You’ve chosen your dream… now stop whining and go for it._

And I go for it. I cut and I cut, familiar network cables, light fibers, electric wires as well as connectors of unknown nature and origin… everything… One by one. Nothing seems to be waking any alarm so far. So far so good.

She remains silent and focused. But the further I go, the more  _tense_ she becomes, and I become scared again. Nothing says it aloud but I *feel* a storm coming in between the dense layers of electric, almost sparking air. Invisible micro discharges affect my nerve circuits and I pray they do not electrocute me or blow the whole house up. Where do the sparks come from? Is it a coincidence she calls herself  _Sparklight_?

Suddenly one of the strange cables I cut releases a few drops of blue fluid. This is the fluid I know already - the same one that was on my clothes when she first  _docked..._ connected to me and cut through my skin. The same one I seemed to intake into my own system when it all begun. The  _energon_ as she called it.  _Wonderful._

A sarcastic comparison about being abducted by an alien at my own wish and desire with my own very hands to do all the dirty work doesn’t stop me from continuing. Surely, maybe I already developed a Stockholm syndrome, but what the hell, it gives me the thrill, and I am consciously not accepting any other option but to step deeper into the swamp. Not the first time and not the last in my life. I want my Stockholm syndrome to persist because it gives me  _a sense of purpose_ …

The following, thicker cabling releases more of that fluid and then something hits me through the connection.  _Pain…_ I almost jump and drop the pliers from my hand.  _Ouch!!! It fuckin’ hurts!_ I try to cut another wire but the pain is too strong and I realise that the connection with her feels somehow passive since a good moment. No more blue flowing into me. No guiding non-verbal data interpretation support. Silence. Broken with a few scattered, burning, choked out, bleeding syllables:

~/ _You… must… dis- ...connect..._ /~

Another, yet stronger, wave of pain strikes through my body as if someone closed me in an iron maiden piercing me with long needles almost everywhere. I gasp for air, bend down - crampy, dizzy and nauseous. If I hesitated a moment ago, now I no longer have any second thoughts. I almost rip the cable out of my neck violently, panting heavily and looking at the blue-bleeding wired block of metal in front of me. The pain ceases instantly, but my body is boiling with adrenaline and my tissues tremble in fear of repeating of what I have just experienced.  _Fucking hell..._

My hands are not steady and my knees are soft. If I continued feeling this way a few moments longer I would be useless in no time. I would faint and maybe even die. It was as if someone connected me to 220 V bulb socket and turned the light on. Invisible but piercing to the bone... I touch myself over my arms and chest and belly to check if I am still a one whole human being. My heart keeps beating, fast but steady, undisturbed. I stretch and bend my fingers a couple of times. They are functional. I am functional. I can continue.

But can she?...

“That sure did hurt” - I hang an empty statement in the air. - “Sparklight?” - I add hesitantly weighing the  _energon_ blotted pliers in my hand - “You there?”

Silence.

~/Are you still there?/~ I repeat the question in the form of an intense thought.

Silence again.

I stare at the box that is most likely her body in some strangely condensed form, half released from the captivity, but still tied to some structures inside the floor below her. I will need to crawl in there even deeper. God if I were only sure what I am actually doing! I close my eyes for one more moment. Has she just passed out? Or is she reliving that painful feeling that had struck me so severely for a few seconds before I unplugged? When did it start to hurt her if she said that I’d have to disconnect when she stops being able to control it? How does she feel it? Is she unconscious… of pain?  _A distressing signal caused by stimuli associated with tissue damage…_ derived from being cut off from the building structure that was part of her for… how long? What am I doing to her? And what am I now going to do with her when I fully release her? I can’t even ask her now! Shit. Shit. Shit…

What else is there however to do but to continue what I have once started? Facing the truth I am already on the other side, no turning back now.

I bite my teeth and I review all the instructions I memorised from her to make sure that I know what to do. I do know what to do. It is more of an instinct speaking through me, but I can I retrieve them one by one. So, I go precisely, accurately in line to what I think I understand from their content, not to cause her more *pain* than strictly necessary. I carefully wipe the blue leakages away and try to dress them with paper towels and duct tape to prevent the bleeding, as if these were wounds. Whatever it is, all odds tell me it is vital for her, and perhaps for me as well. I try not to get distracted by the idea that my blood is mixed with it right now, and that it flows somewhere inside me, perhaps giving me this weird strength and clarity that lets me go through all the information I miraculously remember even though I am not anymore connected to her.

While working slowly and methodically, now completely alone without her support, I learn and understand how many of detailed elements seem to be part of the highly compressed boxed structure. I resist to look into the data she conveyed me further than necessary - maybe afraid to be overwhelmed with the magnitude of the complex design or maybe in fear to see what I may find inside her for real. Anyway, I know, it is somewhere within me already and it is itching with angst and tickling with fluff, my subconsciousness knows it all likely already… but I… I guess I want to take it step by step. I believe I can still cheat the system later, if I need to, but… well, but maybe now it is not the time for distractions.

The vent hole is narrow and uncomfortable to operate in but, step by step, I somehow manage to release the metal block, slowly and laboriously dragging it out as all the cables go loose. It costs me a lot of gasping, stinky sweat, some scratches and bruises, torn nails, dirt in my hair and on my face, blue stains on my jeans and sweater, but finally I am done. The box is out. Lying now on the floor, in front of me. It looks ridiculously with one dead “tentacle” sticking out from it on the side like an empty water hose. It is uneven and dirty in remains of plaster and the blue fluid that leaks out here and there, wrapped in homemade paper dressings. I raise it carefully in my arms and put it aside on a clean floor bit. It is solid like a slab of steel, heavy as an elephant but I can still lift it. A few weeks ago I would laugh out loud at such an idea. What a strongwoman I am… I shelve the point to the  _think about it later_ drawer in my brain.

There is now a huge hole gaping in front of me. It can be covered by the floor tile and inside it by the aircon panel, I only hope the rest will stay unnoticed long enough. That nobody gets an idea to look inside precisely here.

I am sweated, dirty and tired. The remains of the pain linger in me but I have no time for this. I try to do my best to clean up the floor and the little visible part of the space underneath the tile, in case someone opened it and looked inside. I consider myself lucky that all the destruction I caused is hardly visible even if the tile is open, provided that no-one looks into the vent duct outlet. I thank powers that be that nobody got intersted until now and my amateure hacks worked so far in my advantage. And that I am able to lift the treasure I have just retrieved with my own hands.

I collect my stuff and pack everything into my backpack. Then I take a big cardboard box that I providently brought with me and I try to fit the metal block inside it. It is not perfect but with help of some duct tape it is at least not visible what is inside.

I provisionally hide my secret behind the racks, I  _ask her_ to wait a minute and with her silence as consent, I make one more run through the office and the toilet to fetch some more paper towels and wet rugs in order to wipe the floor tidy as much as it gets, clean myself the best I can and throw the coat over my stained clothes.

I tape the cardboard around a couple more times and lift it with an effort. I manage to open the door and leave carrying my mysterious cargo with me out to the elevator. I go down to the lobby and then take another lift down to the underground parking lot. No one stops me, no one asks anything. I dump the thing into the trunk of my car, the back axis sinks down at the weight. Then I get in.

I sit silent and motionless for a few moments, finally thinking by myself again. I remember the next chart she relayed me: “Unwind_sequence”. And the following one: “Transformation_sequence”. And yet another one: “Biotech_function_matrix”... and another one… I have not used them yet in the process of releasing her. I just fear to even touch them. An instinct of sorts tells me that it requires peace, quiet, safety, and… some more room than the datacentre could provide.

I turn in my place a bit, realizing an awkward discomfort in the normally nice and well fitting driver seat. I scratch my lower back uneasily feeling the itching increasing into an uncomfortable pressure, which I decide to disregard for the moment.

Where shall I go now? Room… First I was planning to go home and try to open the box in the safety of my micro living room, but now this thought stops me halfway. Whatever she is, the diagrams made it clear that she needs room. Some decent space to  _unwind..._

My flat is way smaller than the datacentre itself. I turn around and look at the empty back seat of my car. I close my eyes and listen to my breath for a little while.

There is a strange, box-shaped creature in my car. Literally, I have got the presumed soul of the building in the trunk of my car. Not long ago, she was speaking… transmitting… communicating with me. Now she is silent. She may be unconscious. I felt her pain. It almost cringes me at the recollection. I could have passed out myself with her… But here I am. I made it, at least this far. I do not know what she is. I do not have a slightest idea. But it feels as if I have just hid a dead body in my car trunk. Committed a capital sin. Something secret and forbidden.

My stomach wrangles a bit when I think about it all. There is a strange weakness in my body, creeping along the tiniest hair all over my skin, raising them up - just to make me realize that I might actually be as scared as I am excited. A shiver goes down my spine and along my arms and hands in exchanging waves of warmth and cold.

What were I thinking when I decided to do all that?

Someone will eventually see the not so well masked hole under the floor tile next to the air conditioning appliance. It is a matter of time...

What if I did all of that wrong? And what if she doesn't wake up? What if I killed Sparklight through my incompetence when she stopped guiding my hand? What if she loses too much of this blue blood of hers?

The itching in my spine becomes unbearable for a moment and the car seat feels as if it was made of metal. It is pressing on my back like something was stuck between my spine and the seat. I look around lost and realize that I’m shivering. I touch my forearms again and hug myself with them although I am not freezing. Is this the effect of adrenaline going down? Or maybe the opposite, it surged even more and I feel chaotic.

I take to the good old method that saved me and let me calm down more than once:

_Breathe in, breathe out…_

I had all those dreams and I had all of those thoughts… And my eyes shining in the dark…  Wind smacking her glass face… binary welcome to the elevator…  _thank you, you have been identified_ …

_Breathe in, breathe out..._

A malfunctioning glowtube in the corner of the underground parking lot is flashing, nervously lighting up the clean impersonal grey painted walls around me. Almost instinctively I register the zeroes and the ones. But they mean nothing.

_Breathe in, breathe out..._

A useless bundle of letters and numbers, without any message that I could decipher. I shake my head the same way as if I was falling asleep behind the wheel on a highway. My eyes are sore and my back aches. The lights say nothing to me.

_Breathe in, breathe out..._

It is because she’s in the trunk of my car. A corpse knocked out by the  _distressing signal caused by stimuli associated with tissue damage._

_Breathe in, breathe out.._

It is high time. I have to go. Now.

 _Breathe in…_ I turn the key.

 _Breathe out…_ I roll out.


	5. Unwind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for potentially disturbing content (in italics).

_I’m drunk, scared, desireful and resentful. I stink of alcohol and my movements are uncontrolled, I falter, I laugh loudly and stifled tears sink down my throat as I lean and I stumble along the staircase walls leading yet another wolf to my tiny secret rabbit lair… I’m obsessive, compulsive, narcissistic and borderline. I am naked and the *one of the many*, whom I just brought upstairs with me, looks at me with predator eyes that are just *two of the many* eyes that looked at me like this. His head is as drunk and useless as mine. I still wallow in his temporary admiration that feeds well my deep layers of unrequited self pity, doubled by intoxication. His eyes and hands wander greedily as they consume even before he starts his consumption, I am already eaten, not for the first time and not for the last._

_Bloodlessly for now, but there will be more to it, blood and gore, it will hurt and then I’ll be left half-digested to rot or to heal depending on the results of this experiment… I hate him already but I don’t want him to go…  one of the many. My belongings lie in disorder on the floor around me while my whole little world crumbles over my head shouting at me ~/Stop, you’re hurting yourself again, stop that, you’d better be alone. What are you looking for, what are you looking at…?/~ The pictures on my walls that I painted myself pull faces at me, my books, my films and my records almost fall off the shelves who bend dangerously over me and the *one of the many* who starts feeding greedily already, even before the door is locked properly, in place. He does not hear how my computer screams with electricity, with dazzling and vibrating sound of its vents and the screeching squeak of its drives in a warning that is meant for my ears only: ~/you will bleed again, you will bleed again, you know how it ends, you know how it ends… You let him in again, you let in *one of the many*, you let him to the nest, to the hub, to your sanctuary, to your soul, it is not his place, it is no one’s place but yours/~. But I am already there, naked already, hungry already, missing something I wish to patch up, a feeling to kill, to slaughter, to drown… and there will be no longer any remorse, any mercy, it is rolling._

_I allowed it and it is rolling._

_“Here… Put that on... I don’t want any … children...”_

_“Put what on? A condom? You must be kidding me… I don’t do these, your bad”_

_“What do you mean you don’t…”_

_“Shut up, I will do what I please”_

_And then, before I manage to choke out my answer, he grabs me by the throat, pushes my face to the floor and he does what he pleases. He is a nameless one of the many. He does what he wants, and my vision blurs. I can’t even kick or bite. And there is finally the bleeding… And my head goes round, and my walls lean over and try to reach for me, to force him away from me, let me out of this strangling grip, but there is no way the walls can help, they have no hands, they can only sway above me in uneven movements. The computer can only hiss angrily, and the pictures dangle uselessly recording the image in their glossy surface to reflect on me afterwards, every night, in a loop, a reminder, “don't ever do that again, don’t ever let strangers in...”_

_But I just let it be and I go with the flow. And there is blood and there is fear and there is pain. And then he, one of the many, leaves me there, motionless, useless, thrown to the ground like a rag of flesh and skin, as hungry as before, but just a bit more empty and bleeding invisible blue shiny blood all over the floor around._

_I have proven my point. Yet again. Is that enough or will it take forever?_

_The door clicks behind him and my only thought is:_

_“He will neglect me, he will disrespect me, as most of the many, he will be too drunk to ever find his way here again”_

_and then I throw up._

_My computer hisses over my head and across the dirty floor:_

_~/The bastard takes what he wants, then leaves, same as all those before him/~_

_~/Will you never learn/~ the walls whisper, and the paintings just look grim and worried as the world goes round stinking of alcohol and puke._

_“Excuse me… everything ok?” - my mind unlocks and though my vision persists to be blurry, I see my psychologist just in front of my face. How did she get over here? She was sitting in her chair at the other side of the small yellow room filled with dim impersonal light… She is holding a tissue and trying to put it inside my hand as if I ever cried. - “You drifted away… It is allright now, look at me” - she gives me a really worried gaze and I look at her obediently - “It takes really long to get over a traumatic experience, but you’re making progress.” - she squeezes my hand in hers still holding the white tissue, now forming an almost invisible barrier separating our warm palms. I stare blankly at her and feel how I’m falling apart. Again and again. I would really like to take her home with me and talk for hours. Instead we meet once a week throughout long months and I hardly feel any purpose. My eyes slide over her glasses that reflect the clock ticking behind me. There is just five minutes left and the session is over. I let her hand lose and shake my head._

_“I’m fine, thank you” - I smile and my face feels stiff - “My brain glitched” - I add slowly and there is only four minutes left while I watch her eyes, suddenly uneasy and embarrassed._

_Yet again, she will have to tell me to go. The time is up, no progress achieved._

_“Really, I am just fine.”_

 

* * *

  
I shake my head to get rid of the sleepy feeling. I’m heading to a place I know well. A place I escaped to more than once when I couldn’t stand the nightmares and the gloomy loneliness of my claustrophobic flat and the impersonal cleanliness of my office. The one that I, so many times, looked at from the distance of the 67th floor, far, far away at the horizon. The best one suited for opening a treasure chest unwitnessed. The best one to allow it even to blow up if that is to happen… What is done is done, now I need to finish what I began. Complete it. I do not want to care what happens next. Maybe this is my moment… of living the *now* for once, instead of the grim past and axious future that haunt me...

I drive slowly through the dim and misty Sunday morning city. The sun managed to travel already up on the sky when I pass along the calm streets cutting across its rays diffused by the morning air. Nobody follows me on the way. Why should anyone? Of course I am paranoid - who would not become paranoid just after such an operation? But despite this, everything feels just normal apart from the strange heaviness of the car that drags like it was laden with a loadful of bricks and the breaks need twice the normal distance to stop at the red light. It is kind of strange for I feel like a criminal. None of my sins so far has ever given me such a physical and tangible feeling of having committed something forbidden.

I have stolen a very, very strange thing. What if it is a super-secret-fancy-schmancy device that is part of someone’s project aimed at God only knows what? Or am I just carrying a bulk of regular junk in my overweight car? The mess in the datacentre will come to light sooner or later if someone gets the idea to lift that particular floor tile. Well, that someone might be as well Martin. _I’m lucky he did not do that yesterday_... - it flashes through my head as the scene from the building door replays in my head.

She keeps being silent and it makes me slightly worried. I would rather hear these thoughts of hers that she does not consider thoughts as it seems, even at the expense of her hearing me thinking to her too. It would keep me on track, keep me from doubt, reconfirm me, that even if it is insanity, at least I’d be in touch with the voices and the whole mess I created would not be there for nothing. Like it seems now. Me - stealing scrap from work with a belief that it might like to transform according to some alien script that the said scrap implanted in my head by mixing its blood with my own, through a cable pinned to my spine. An interesting theory. _Doubt… Cold snake of doubt…_ I do not want it. At all. I want to be convinced about what I am doing. It is so much simpler to lock myself from the insisting reason that speaks against all science fiction that has been happening to me the recent times.

I shake my head again and then I just decide, again, not to think about it, but just to drive. Just drive!

Eventually I arrive. I park the car safely on a regular parking lot next to a company operating nearby, not to raise anyone’s suspicions by leaving an unattended vehicle just next to the place I am heading to. It means I will need to carry my heavy box a couple of minutes more, but it is worth the peace of mind that I will earn this way.

I open the car trunk and I inspect the box. To my anxiety the sticky blue substance is now visible, soaking through the cardboard and the makeshift dressings in many places. I carefully lift the package trying not to stain my coat, the only thing I have somewhat clean on me. It is hardly possible because the box is so heavy. I have to support some of its weight against my chest, as my hands would not hold out for long otherwise. I close the trunk with my elbow and activate the alarm remotely. Then I make sure nobody looks and I vanish into the bushes.

I follow a small path known to myself and maybe some very few explorers and youths that may visit the abandoned power plant occasionally. I hope not to meet any of them this time. It is a sunny warm lazy Sunday morning after all. I stubbornly follow the path through the bushes, stopping a couple of times to rest and put my burden on the ground. I lift it again, continuing through a hole in the fence and into a basement window. I have to push the box across the narrow opening, luckily succeeding, and I am finally inside. I wander down a few more corridors until I face the great turbine hall covered in dust, rust, bird shit and lazy sunshine falling through dirty windows.

I find a cleaner spot, put my burden down and take a floor brush out from my backpack. I clean the floor as much as it gets, and place the box on the prepared ground. It’s time to see… I cut the wet cardboard open and unstick it carefully from its contents as if I were pulling blood-blotted bandages off of a wound. The provisional dressings peel away together with the cardboard and I am trying to clean everything delicately, the best I can.

When I am finally ready, I sit down on a half-rotten chair leaning back against a rusty balustrade of small metal stairs going to the turbine hall basement. I look at the effects of my work and listen to the silence of the building. The electricity plant has its own scary sounds, well known to me and thus negligible. A lonely window slams irregularly against its frame somewhere, metal roof support crates screech almost inaudibly as they are getting older with the slow passing of time in the dusty sun rays and deep shadows. Pigeons coo and rise up from time to time with a hissing tumult of their feathery wings cutting through the air, but they calm down the longer I stay still. It is as peaceful as it can be in an abandoned ghostly building on the outskirts of my city. It smells a little wet, a little rotten, a little pigeony, a little rusty and very very dust-dry. It is a land of contradictions and I am … at home here. At peace. It is a known place. It is understandable as much as it is off-putting for most other people who do not even come near. It is… mine. It restores my balance. The vibes of the place give me the much needed warm closeness to my imagined reality. The guest I brought seems to fit here better than anywhere else, at least within my own scale. I have made a good choice.

I take a deep, dust filled breath and then I close my eyes and analyse the next diagram in my memory. I look again at the metal block in front of me. It is not as flat or as silvery as I thought. It has violet, purple and blue spots on it. It is also fairly battered and its surface is far from flat or even. When I look closer I can see it is engraved with mysterious patterns. I already recall what they may mean, at least a little of it. I got them on the scheme, as engraved in my head as these patterns are on the metal, despite that my head is filled with brain matter and not electronics. I look a bit longer to make sure it falls into place right. My mind gets clearer and clearer. I guess I know what to do...

_Breathe in, breathe out..._

I get up from my decayed chair and I step towards her and seek the parts that I need. Then I reach out to touch her. I put my hand flat on the surface to find the markings I need to use.

It… She is warm, which seems to be a good sign. At least from the human perspective. Warm is not dead. I rub her surface gently, and before I do anything else I cannot resist the urge to abuse her unconsciousness and take a closer look at that feeler of hers that I have never had the chance to examine properly before.

I duck down next to it and take a good look at its incomprehensibly complex tip. It is now fainted like a flower but even in this condition I see it is full of weirdness, metal endings of unclear purpose, strange wire connectors, something like optical fiber, but soft and flexible, all wrapped in a casing resembling flower petals that would normally close over all the things inside but now they are half open, hanging unconscious. I scan it with my eyes as it lies on the floor, curiosity itching and building up in my fingers, drawing them to touch it. Slowly I reach out and lift the cable tip in front of my eyes. I hold it for a moment with both hands. I did touch it before but never like this. Never considering really what it is like. It is segmented, slightly warm, hard, but also covered in something rubbery that makes it surprisingly ...nice to the touch.

“Hey…” - I whisper and my voice echoes softly off the ceiling sinking in the moss on the floor and peeling paint on the walls. - “You’re alive… and now you’re almost free...”

My fingers stroke the feeler gently finding the slightly bent spot where I squeezed her too hard last time. Then the temptation that lurked inside me for some time already wins over my restraint. My fingers slip gently inside the flower seeking these hidden tendrils, that not long ago clicked into to my neck and connected us together. I open the petals and touch the metal bits inside it. They twitch a bit making me almost jump-scared, getting away with my hand instantly but she doesn't seem to wake up. I press lightly again on one of the little shapes ending the feeler and the metal starts moving in my hands suddenly, little bits shoving against each other, repositioning like in a automated jigsaw puzzle... forming themselves into something else, as little as the thing it was before, but yet not the same, but completely different… a miracle...

“Whoo” - it is more of a breath than a proper word that I release, my eyes wide open and the tiredness I felt a moment ago gone completely. - “So this must be how it works…”

I could play with it hours more but it does not seem right… if she doesn’t know what I am doing and cannot consent to it, I shouldn’t be touching her more than she instructed me to. With a deep breath and speeding heart I put the feeler back on the ground.

“Let’s try to wake you up”

I dive into the diagram in my brain again and follow the prescribed sequence. I press a few places on the box together. at the same time. They give way under the pressure of my fingers. Then I continue with next ones and next ones, in line with a scheme she relied to me. The machinery abides easier and easier to this strange massage that I apply. Little bits start relocating under my hands and the box is no longer simple and rectangular, it becomes increasingly complicated and not solid anymore. I’m like a pianist waking an android up with my music... The rhythm comes from what I learnt, but it also comes from me, the Phantom of the Opera waking her Christine up. I’m enchanted and I want to be important…

“Come on Sparklight, show yourself…” - I whisper while she’s changing faster and faster and it all seems to start moving under my touch in all directions, until my sequence is finished and I am not needed anymore. I jump away, now it’s her turn, the wheels are turning, she is turning like a werewolf, from a cassette box to God only knows what. I retreat to my chair but I don’t even manage to sit properly. It is all going too fast...

 _Breathe in, breathe out…_ I repeat the mantra.

The box is no longer a box, its elements displace one against another spreading around like a blossoming rosebud on a time lapse record. The glimmery movements gain speed. I pull myself back even more, as the transformation continues of itself in a more and more violent rush changing, unveiling miraculously in front of my eyes into a storm of glittering waltz of myriads of forms, three-dimensional bits and pieces that whirl all around as if someone reverse-played a record of smashing a mirror-glass sculpture.

 _Breathe in…_ I hold my breath in awe. I realize that there is also a sound - a silent one, metallic, glossy, little rusty sound, a rustle, a rubbing, grazing and abrazing sound full of clicks and furls… and a very silent human-like sigh or moan too, if I only get it right and am not hallucinating.

It’s like a dance, like a birth, like a flower blooming in fast-motion, like a secret vault opening its rusty doors to let the long hidden treasure out. It is… strange. My eyes are hardly able to follow the swift movements of dozens of small elements that are dashing out and around into all directions.

 _Breathe out… Breathe in…_ I have been holding my breath for God knows how long and though there is no oxygen left inside me I do not have room in my lungs anymore. I am so lost in the spectacle that I realize my rotten chair lies on the floor and I half-sit down on a low wall behind me only when I feel its uneven surface biting into my bottom, but that bothers me only for a second. Because… because after a few seconds, maybe minutes, maybe hours of this dance, of this magic, of this transformation… I can finally see her.

_My Sparklight._


	6. Awakening

 

We sit in front of each other on the dirty dusty floor of the abandoned manufacturing hall that used to host turbines of a large power plant in the outskirts of my city. This is the power plant whose tall chimney I admired so many times from the sky-high levels of my skyscraper floor. Now, ironically, I sit in front of the materialized soul of that building, here, in this same little spot on the horizon she could probably also see multiple times using the building security systems.

My heart is still pounding in the remains of the initial shock. She is just looking at me as I am trying to calm my fleshy human body down. It takes a while but then I am finally able to look at her with any understanding at all.

She is… a machine. An android perhaps, because her elements somewhat correspond to human ones, but in a twisted, rectangular and sharp way, not resembling soft human shapes almost at all. Most of all she is tall, twice as tall as me, lithe and slender. She has arms but they look more like aircraft wings, long and thin and flat, with really slim demonic fingers which are now hanging idle to the floor, curled up a little into soft half-fists, like the ones of a monkey. I count her fingers quickly and there are five at each hand. So familiar and so strange at the same time. She stands or rather crouches on strong-looking, half bent legs that are overly complex with multiple intersections at, what I assume, must be ankles and knees that seem to have too many joints, clearly mechanical, with some visible elements of hydraulic levers. She is… angular but smooth at the same time, her body is built of elements that strangely suggest another function, which is not to be a box hidden in a building floor or even a semi-human, semi-robot being. It brings airplanes and flying to my mind, because of those arms… Flying… Pigeons under the roof rise up in a flock flapping and snapping their wings against the air as if they heard my thoughts. Flying. Pigeons are hardly a comparison. Even majestic crows would not do. If she flies she must be an eagle or a hawk. A raven…

Her body is armoured in something like a chassis, likely made of metal, but I cannot really say for sure. I _assume_ it must be metal, because this is what I have known and thought of her so far, but I have no idea what it really is.

She is mostly silvery, but also deep purple and black and dark blue cover her dusty chassis like worn out paintwork on a battered car. She shines a very delicate glow along the lines connecting parts of her external casing that seems to be thin and not fully complete, revealing mysterious existence of a body underneath which makes a muscular and flexible impression despite the non-organic structure it must be made of. I wonder about this contradiction for a second but drop the thought when I realize that the tentacklish datacable I met as the first materialised part of her is now gone completely as if it never existed.

Instead, she has a *face*… A more human one than I would have thought seeing the rest of her. Or rather - an alien one completely, but with some humanoid features, especially the _eyes_. Deep, multicoloured red-blue flickering mechanical eyes… Her head is wrapped in something that resembles a sharp, roughly ornamented helm, which, similar to the chassis, might serve to protect something hidden deeper inside. A mechanical brain? A supercomputer? An entangled set of  integrated circuits of a complex processor network full of microchips?

She is a bit like a mech from those Japanese cartoons about giant robots piloted by depressive teenages fighting evil death-bringing angels in futuristic Tokyo-3… Except that she is just big, not giant, and I’m not a teenager for over half of my life already, but I am still depressive, and now… everything is in fact upside down, at least in my world. Like Tokyo-3 in the hidden mode. Buildings rising down into the ground...

I bawl my eyes, but it doesn't help. My robot sits in front of me and gazes at me with strange calmness, now obviously fully conscious but still silent. I mean… there is *life* in her eyes. Even if she does not move a bit, she is *alive*. Where have all the bits and pieces of the box gone?

“Sparklight?” - I say quietly - “Hi Sparklight...”

She keeps still silent for a few moments, collecting herself. She looks confused and lost, as if this new, freshly acquired or regained shape felt strange and alien to her. She seems to be surprised with the lithe and amazing structures of her real body. _The most wonderful body I have ever seen_ , I realize.

Has she taken this shape for me, knowing what I look like, has she taken this similarity as the proper option to mimic? The closest she can to become a human? From what I had witnessed I understood already that she can change shape by moving millions of elements that she is made of, like I saw it just a moment ago. I don't know how many forms she can take, and I still sit blighted by her transformation.

Yet, I cannot get over how she was packed down to that box I just brought here… Something as big as now stands before me just could not possibly fit in that small block... Her words about being used to * _pain*_ ring in my ears suddenly. _...distressing…  ...damaging... ...unpleasant... ...sensory... ...emotional... ...experience... ...damage…_ Does being squeezed in a compact version of a box fulfill all those parameters? So, did she then feel pain all that time? What does she feel being what she is… now? _Unwound_? Stretching her body after God knows how long in the boxed condition...

I look at her, stunned and literally voiceless. _What is that you feel now, Sparklight…?_

~/I feel... alive.../~ it flows to me gently and my heart goes throbbing inside my veins, across my head, and within my fingers, under my skin and deep in my arteries.  

Her face *smiles*. A mask of sorts slides away to the sides revealing something that has to be her lips and cheeks. Incredibly complex, built of myriads tiny mechanical pieces that move changing her face expression.

The glow of her skin seems to variate gently and it paints patterns glancing from underneath, changing and flickering in an obscure way. I imagine that gorgeous pulsation must follow the rhythm and intensity of her thoughts and feelings. And it matches with the shining of her eyes. It looks like it comes from deep inside her, from the soft matter of her body, from her mysterious flesh below the cover of metal. This is the same glow I saw in her feeler when it was the first and only thing I knew of her.

She is a monster and a demon, she is a living machine, but it is strange to realize looking at her, exactly because she is so alive. She stands still in front of me, looking as I glare with my eyes wide open, frozen in time. She stands still the same way people stand, hesitating, as if she has woken up suddenly from daydreaming and did not fully know where she found herself.

I stand same as her, stunned, fixed fast in my place. I stare bluntly at her and cannot take my eyes off her. All I am able to do now is to be here, frozen in wonder and feel my hands trembling just from looking at her… I breathe deeply overbearing my silence and the dryness in my mouth.

“Sparklight… are you ok?” - I ask slowly and finally she moves a bit, surprisingly quietly for such a big metal structure immobilized previously for so long.

~/It feels so strange/~ I hear in my head finally. ~/I guess… I forgot what my own body is like/~ she looks around slowly examining the surrounding, then her own limbs and chest like they belonged to someone else. ~/You made it Eva/~ she smiles again. ~/... I exist!/~ the exclamation of joy rings in my head filling me with even more awe.

“Yes, you do” - I reply - ~/You exist and I am not insane/~ I add from deep within me and she lifts her beautiful face and looks at me. Her eyes flicker like a rainbow to me as she smiles. Yes, things fall into place. This is her - _my Sparklight -_ I feel it across my whole body - “Sparklight” - I say aloud again as if repeating her strange name became a ritual for me and I smile back compulsively feeling how my cheeks heat up and blush out of my control.

“So…” - I say uncertain - “This is what you are like”.

She looks around again. And then she slowly raises and stretches her arms. A grimace crosses her face.

“Does it hurt?” - I ask not sure what to say.

~/It doesn’t matter/~ she tries to smile again to me and with visible effort she straightens up to her full height ~/It hurts less than everything until now/~.

I try not to imagine what she has said just now, but the picture of the datacentre floor and the blue blood leaking from her onto my clothes stick to my memory, uninvited. I do not know if this is just my impression or am I so emphatic but I feel my whole back aching all the same, as if it was me stretching the stiff body imprisoned for years... or as if something was stuck there, right under my skin... the same thing that gave me discomfort in the car already.

I force myself to move despite this feeling and I walk slowly around her while she continues following me with her gaze:

~/Thank you Eva. You did not have to do all this for me, but you did. You kept your promise and you set me free./~

She tilts her head while she’s saying it and I see a delicate wave passing her incredible complex cheeks, her eyes glowing beautifully at me. It takes my breath away for the fifth time since I saw her first a few minutes ago.

“Sparklight… I just did what I thought was necessary… and that was not such a big deal after all… I mean, no problem... you’re most welcome” - I stutter and step a bit closer leaning my head back to look up at her.

But she is already focused on something else. I don't even know if she listened to my last words, but I do not mind. Because now the rest of the show has begun...

First, she stretches herself like a freshly awaken cat. She pulls her arms up and to the sides, the way I did at a gym cooldown session after an especially cumbersome and heavy crossfit. Her legs straighten and her chest raises proudly, looking bigger and stronger and sharper and even more angular than I have previously thought. She looks at her hands again and not so surprisingly to me she transforms them to something else and then back to the initial shape again, so quickly that I cannot really see what they have become for a moment. Maybe blades, maybe wingtips... I stand fascinated looking at how she tries her body, methodically, slowly, bit by bit, she seems to be activating everything she remembers about moving, trying overcome the ages-long stiffness of a statue brought to life by a witcher’s charm…

And then, finally, I can see where her tentacle, or tentacles have taken refuge. The armour on her sides moves a bit, just under the chest, it would be under the ribs if she were human, right where her belly begins, the plating opens and they, two of them, the datacables one of which I have already learnt to know well, emerge and rise in front of her. Long, flexible, extensible… I don’t know how they fit inside her, but they do. First she touches her own hands with them, in an inverted order, as if the hands were something else and the feelers were here real arms. She lets them slide over her palms and between her fingers. Then she raises the tentacles up in front of her face and their tips start their own transformation, a foretaste of which I had when she was still lying unaware… different endings reaching out for really brief milliseconds to hide back in a few seconds. Finally she reaches their tips up to her own face and touches it examining the dark silvery surface.

The reason tells me it should be creepy. But it’s not. It is beautiful.

~/Yes.../~ I hear her inside my head while she continues the tentacle run along all of her body as if it contained the true and most accurate senses to really see… feel everything. I stand and stare at her as she touches herself for a couple more moments before the strange limbs retract and disappear back inside her. An awkward thrill accompanies me when I look at her doing this. It’s a bit like I shouldn’t be looking, like I caught her naked in the shower and saw something private happening, that was not meant for my eyes. She does nothing stranger than she is herself, I have no idea why I blush again. _My demon -_ the thought pierces my brain as if it was not really mine and I can’t stop staring at the alien in front of me - _what are you? What is it that I have just set free to the world?_ \- Adrenaline is creeping in the corners of my body lurking suspiciously, ready to emerge at any moment.

Then she makes a step ahead. She catches balance and her foot lands with a quiet metallic thump on the floor crushing some broken glass scattered around. Then she takes another step, and another one, each one quieter and more cat-like than the previous. Scared pigeons above her coo loudly and hurtle with their wings across the air in an escape to the darkest corners of the hall known to them only, while she exercises her limbs and moves the whole body now. She bends different joints one by one, her eyes shine colourfully, her face is focused...

I follow, looking at her from a safe distance, realizing yet again that I am a true partner in crime of her release, that it was me who gave her this newly acquired freedom - to take these steps and stretch these wings... I breathe the air in deeply while pride fills me and makes my chest raise up same as hers a moment ago..

Finally she turns around and looks at me, noticing me back again.

~/I’m sorry… It is just so strange to be myself again/~

I nod and make a step back embracing her with my bedazzled gaze. I am so small, and she’s so tall… She looks back at me, maybe for the first time since awakening, she looks me in the eyes from up above in the lofty air. And, as if she were reading my thoughts again, she crouches in front of me surprisingly lightly lowering herself to my level. My heart jumps up and I cannot decide if I got scared or was it something else.

I can now see her face from a close distance, just in front of me, eye to eye, maybe just half a meter from me. Her eyes seem to be smart and understanding even though I do not find a proper comparison in the human and animal world that I know. They are mechanical, shaped like irregular trapezes or diamonds filled with little shiny lenses and moving gears, reminding me of the insides of an old fashioned camera lens combined with a swiss watch mechanism. They are surprisingly deep, as if they were a keyhole to another dimension, and their gaze is anxiously captivating… They keep me stuck in place, they want me to gaze back, to fall into a mysterious trap that *must* be hidden inside them.

Again, I do not know why, there is this tension in me that magically ties me to the ground while I’m looking at the wonder of technology that I see in front of myself. My thoughts are erratic, but one thing I know for sure. She is no AI, no product of human hands, as I wanted to think in the beginning of this adventure. There is an alive being in front of me, looking at me, seeming to see through me with focused attention… and I should never get lured by the metallic appearance.

She leans her head a bit as if she were scanning my thoughts and it’s an itchy feeling. I take a deep breath thinking of what to say while the feeling of surrealism and detachment from the well known reality is intensifying with every second of this encounter. We are floating in a bubble, and I do not even see the walls and the factory hall around us or feel the air that I am breathing. So I keep silent letting the intensity grow, swell, protrude… until I, finally, almost involuntarily, reach out with my hand to her silvery face.

She closes these amazing eyes of hers the moment I touch her, as if it made her shy or… _the act of touching could be better perceived without vision to disturb it..._ Her “skin” feels warm and it is not as hard or metallic as it looks. It is actually soft and utterly pleasant to my hand. It feels as if it reacted to my fingertips with light pulsing and connectivity… or maybe I just imagine. She opens her eyes again and now they shine at me with an amazing blend of hellish red and heavenly blue. She smiles with these silvery mechanical lips and in a blink of an eye her tentacle appears again and touches my own face, very gently. Although I know the feeling of this touch from the datacentre already, it takes me by surprise and I feel my cheeks burning even more than just a moment before. The blood is no longer pulsing in my veins… it is throbbing and splashing like a waterfall, and the adrenaline that was awaiting in some murky corners of my system surges now unevenly across my body and senses in a wave, making my muscles tense but my knees are bending soft under me.

What am I doing??? It itches under my skin, it gets my tissues swollen. My body is weak and a howling empty space is opening between my heart and my stomach… My breath is hot and stifled. My tongue is dripping with mouthwatering eagerness… _Wait..._ I know this feeling all too well. This is what *desire* tastes like. Bitter-sweet and unforgiving... _God help me not to throw myself all over her and kiss her on those silvery metal lips that smile so shyly and curiously…_

What is happening with me?!?

 _STOP!_ \- I tell myself… stop… I should take my hand off her, but I cannot. My fingers are stuck, glued to her with an invisible magnetic force that is impossible to overrule with a sane command of my brain, who, despite the surreal magical bubble I’m in, struggles to see what I am doing, and what is, more importantly, going on with my body… I am all tension and excitement, which I *may not* allow. I am not even sure what she is. _I don't even know what I am…_ It reflects on me suddenly, picturing in front of my eyes the vision of four little metal bite marks on my neck and the bathroom scale showing the unrealistic weight of my body.

She withdraws first, but it is anyway too late.

My hand feels empty without the touch of her cheek and the blood is rising to my brain already. Suddenly, I realise something yet else is happening with my body. An odd tension that has been growing inside my backbone for some time already turns into piercing pain that hits me out of a sudden, as if someone drove a knife straight along my back trying to rip my spine out. Something presses out and cuts through my skin and clothes stretching and tearing everything apart…

I arch back suddenly with a harrowing scream that escapes my mouth before I notice. A red, black-dotted curtain falls over the world and I do not see straight anymore. I can only feel warm, faint, prickly, itchy wetness washing over the needle-sharp, stone-heavy pressure as if my backbone exploded in a series of small blows, and I could not keep my body straight anymore. My feet lose the ground, my arms disappear from the map of my body, my cry echoes across the turbine hall and the empty corridors, it must shoot right out of the tall chimney like some freaking fireworks on the New Years Eve...

Then, following my scream, I start to fall backwards, in slow motion, across the empty space of the great factory hall, through golden sunbeams of the warm early afternoon, across undefined strings of time that passes through me... right onto the hard, dirty, concrete floor covered in moldy moss, aged dust and years of layers of pigeon shit…


	7. Hexamethyl Pararosaniline Chloride

 

But I never get to hit the ground.

I find myself caught in a careful cradle of a tentacle embracing me swiftly out of nowhere. I see, I feel through the glitchy film of an abrupt nausea how she grabs me and puts me gently on the chair I prepped for myself a few quarters, maybe already a few hours ago… I can hear myself moaning with every move that I make, but I still try to get up, falling back to the chair again, blocked by something that seems to be tying and tearing my spine, making it stiff and bent backwards. I hardly realize that if not for Sparklight, I would have fallen hard and merciless to the hard dirty floor. But her feeler is still holding me, gently, by my shoulders and my waist. I groan again and raise my blurry eyes at her.

She is kneeling next to me. Unbothered by the dirt, as it seems, she looks at me carefully. I catch her shiny eyes and I can hear her through the static noise of my mind.

~/Eva, it’s your tail emerging... /~

_What????_

~/You’re transforming!/~

_The heck???_

_Transforming????? Tail emerging…?_ I look down below the chair and I can see a very little red pool of blood on the floor just behind my back. The red is dotted with blue. Same blue that she was bleeding when I carried her from the car... Same blue that she injected into me and that I licked so hungrily off my clothes back at home.

I try to move my head to look at my own back but it hurts too much to turn around.

So all I can do is to utter to her - “Transforming? What are you talking about”...

~/Transforming. Shapeshifting… it is a normal thing.../~

“Humans don’t transform” - I protest with conviction but my fire is extinguished with another wave of pain and damage I can literally feel on my back, like my skin was spreading open along my lower spine. She looks at my face with new attention and I realize that I must be grimacing strangely.

~/Not those that I know about. But maybe some do? Maybe you do?.../~ she says slowly, and she constates ~/You’re in pain… you shouldn’t be/~ then without asking she raises herself a little, goes behind me to examine my back, and as much as I want to protest I cannot even squeak a word when she moves my obviously torn clothes to the sides ~/We have to let the tail out or it will harm you even worse. Your skin does not shed or move away, it tears apart, that’s why it hurts you. Maybe you were locked in your skin the same as I was locked in the building.../~

I cannot believe what I hear.

“What do you mean my tail…? I do not have a tail, right…? People don’t have tails…” - I whisper the strained mantra.

~/How should I know. I just know what I saw in the available data streams and in my own programming/~ she breaks the examining for a moment and I almost feel how she looks at me right across the back of my head while I stare at myself in disbelief.  ~/You need a quick cut and you’ll be fine/~

What is it that she’s saying to me now…? I tilt my head with eyes wide open and the muscle movement drags across my body to release another streak of stinging pain that bites into me. A wet leak of blood warms the middle of my spine. The world becomes dotted black and it turns around me. I might well just be fainting or dreaming, doesn’t matter. I still feel her touch as she slowly runs across my spine checking God knows what with her feeler. My brain tells me I should protest but the magic stupor I’m drowned in somehow persists, and I realize that, for no reason whatsoever, I trust her in what she’s doing. A little devil inside me is telling I will wake up in a few moments in my sweated bed, as usual, and this is just the standard discomfort from the gym-sore muscles that I am feeling. Maybe I lifted a bit too much weights or made some wrong moves... Maybe I did not stretch enough. Maybe... I relax a little and allow the dream to go on. I grab stronger to the chair with one hand and to her feeler with the other.

“Just do it” - I hiss out from between my teeth in a throaty voice.

She says nothing at all. I just feel how the tip of the tentacle that is holding me climbs up to my neck and... plugs in to the place I know well already. In the same instant a wave of warmth embraces me taking all the pain away. It starts to feel *so good* instead and I relax letting my muscles go softly, only now realizing how strained I was just before. I have no idea what kind of anesthetics she’s just injected into me in order to cheat my brain but it is clear that they work… I still feel her touch, her support that does not let me fall down from my chair. My skin is like thick paper or leather. I still feel the opening in my back but the ache is miraculously gone, and now it’s just a strange chill of the air and tickling of the dust particles settling on the open wet wound that I can register. I’m trying to look around slowly but she holds me in a way that I cannot see what she’s doing. I can only feel. I register how something cuts carefully and evenly through a couple of spots along my spine down to its base. One, two, three, four, calm, even, precise cuts… Then she lets go.

Finally I am relieved from the tension that was in there so far, since quite some time, as I realize, and my back seems flexible and normal again… It lasts a few more seconds, in which I see her come back in front of me, still holding me, feeding me, making me feel good… I see her eyes blink and shine. For the first time I can see her when she is plugged into me, letting her blood flow through the both of us, and a deep, sweet sigh escapes my half open mouth. I catch her eyes and I melt down. I know, I am fully aware, something is taking over me again, I cannot shake it off, I don’t want to shake it off, I want it to be like this forever… I must be glaring at her like a dog in love, and maybe, maybe it is scary - for her, for the both of us, because she unplugs and everything wrong comes back suddenly. Like a thunder hitting right into my head.

My eyes almost pop out staring at her face incomprehensibly within a moment of blunt suffering twisting my wounded skin inside out. I howl and almost don’t feel how her tendril softly strokes my arm trying to say _~/Hush hush you’ll be alright/~_ in a way that has nothing to do with words.

Then I realize that something, a part of my body unveils, unrolls and spreads down to my legs, to the ground. I look down ungluing my eyes off hers and I spread my mouth wide open.

It is a long, strong string of blades attached to each other. Dark and shiny, bloodied and gory with tiny bits and pieces of my skin and flesh hanging now uselessly like pieces of meat in a butcher’s shop, like blood-stained chain of knives right after a slaughter. Stained but somehow sterile. A worm of metal, a snake of blades, nothing human, nothing I have ever seen before… A stunned and painful moan leaves my throat as I gape, glare, stare at my new *tail*. Then *I* move its very tip ended with something sharp similar to a bolt or an arrow looking like the multitool thing that her feelers transform into…

I am too overwhelmed to put it into my picture of the world yet. I become mute in wonder and in a few seconds I forget about everything that exists. I just move the tip of that silvery-black tail I have just given birth to, however ridiculous this may seem. I *feel* it there, growing out of my back. It is real. It is a part of me. I have control over it. And I *feel* the world through its tip even stronger than with anything else. I close my eyes and all shapes and distances are still around me, as if there was a radar image projection transmitted right across my spine to my brain, or maybe an infrared image.... the tail knows and tells me about the world the same way if it saw the it with my eyes.

“Holy fuck…. What… what is it?”

The question hangs in the air while I keep staring at this new limb that I have, this appendage that definitely should not be there. It is impossible and for sure it does not exist.

~/Your tail :)/~ she smiles from a distance and reality comes back slowly telling me I’m bleeding from my back and I almost cannot move.

“I need to stop the bleeding” - I hear me saying, the rational part of my brain always at my service, but she is not here, not next to me anymore. I look around and see her half squeezed into one of the corridors, looking strange as she’s trying to get in there for some reason. I did not even notice when she disappeared to materialize at the other end of the hall.

“Hey, where are you going!” - I cry after her convinced suddenly that she wants to escape, leave me here, scowling and groaning, losing blood, unable to move, seeing things, going insane… But she does not react. I try to get up, raise myself and go after her, but I just can’t, my legs give way and I fall to the ground, now for real, right into all the dirt and bird shit spread around the abandoned turbine hall floor. - “Sparklight…” I whine helplessly feeling betrayed for one second, before I see her sparking eyes looking again at me as she turns back and crawls out of that corridor.

~/How can you doubt me/~ I hear the reproach in my head. It stings a little in my stomach. It is not the first time that I doubt her… I doubt her and trust her on pair, in equal proportions, and I realize I’m ashamed of both feelings all the same. I raise my head up to look at her going back to me across the huge industrial room, stepping carefully, carrying something tiny in her feeler, that disappears quickly under her hood. Her arms hang idle as if she did not really know how to use them, but when she passes next to a metal support slab she leans on it with her hand for a second, and this is when I realize that she must have faltered, but she regains her composure in less than a blink of an eye. The next moment she is next to me, she picks me up from the ground and places me on the blue stained, but much cleaner remains of the box.

~/I wish I learnt more about your human biology, but this will fix you for the moment/~ I have no idea what she is talking about but then I see her taking out a small bottle of something purple and she gently turns my hurtful body over as if I was some kind of a rag doll, making me lie face down on the cardboard.

“What are you doing…” - I try to ask but then she puts the bottle right in front of my eyes: _Hexamethyl Pararosaniline Chloride._ Gentian violet… I recognize the name from very long ago. And the same moment I wonder how she knows it and how she found out… Well, she had broadband access to the internet for long boring days back at the building... - “I’m not asking…” - I stutter as the way I lie on my belly does not help proper breathing - “how you know what it is… It is for sure… expired. Just tell me how... on Earth... you know it’s still good”...

~/I checked/~

“How...”

~/The chemicals match the pattern, they have not decomposed. The solution is active. It will dry and disinfect your wound if not close it a bit. There isn’t anything better than this here/~

“Holy shit... Sparklight… where did you even get it from...” - I sigh and try to get up, but she holds me lightly to the ground.

~/An old medical kit/~ she replies, and then before I notice, I feel the stinging presence of the pre-war magic potion on my skin staining me, my clothes and the remains of the cardboard box in deep purple - the same colour that I remember on my knees and elbows when I was a kid playing ball on the concrete playground in our poor district back in a day, many years ago…

A school nurse applied it on us kids, with caring touch, when we got hurt in the few moments of careless joy, running after the football and falling to the hard, abrasive asphalt surface, and despite that, playing unhindered, laughing out loud, never giving up, always ready for new adventures, even if the playground wounds stung, this meant nothing to us… I always wished I had a mother like that nurse, who would apply a magic potion to any wounds and any problems I had at the time. Though the outdated gentian violet cannot reach the pains deep inside the soul but it could at least partially stop the bleeding?

I wave the memory away and then, with effort, I turn my head around to look back at Sparklight, just to see a big strangely shaped robot, a machine leaning over me who unskillfully, and carefully is painting my cut back with much too much gentian violet than necessary, helping herself with a tip of her feeler stained it in likewise. I let my head drop back on my dirty hand lying on the floor with a deep exhale. _My Sparklight…_

But the moment does not last longer then possible. I guess we both hear something from the depths of the building at the same moment. Footsteps? A sound of thin glowtube glass breaking under a heavy shoe of someone? A human voice from very very far away…? These are sounds that are not native part of an old late afternoon silence in an abandoned power plant.

Her face, now close to me, becomes tense and her eyes observant. She is like a cat or a wolf hearing someone coming in the forest… A danger… And I, too, can hear… someone coming. Still at a distance, only entering the facility, a maze of corridors away. Human voices cannot be confused with anything once you’ve been to a good number of abandonments already. The echo, the specific shimmer of the air unaccustomed to human speech, tells the foreign from the known. The building is warning us in its own way. We both know already - buildings can do that…

We are not alone. She hears and understands it same as I do. She gives me this look of understanding and I see her body tense up, caught in indecision what to do now, calculations running through her head to coordinate everything.

~/Someone is coming/~ I hear her in my head.

~/I know/~ I risk to think it without saying.

She just nods to me. Then she stands up, reaches out for me and lifts me from the ground carefully. Now I am high up, away from the floor, curled in her arms, not protesting… We both look down and I understand the mess we made cannot be cleaned up in five seconds, with the cardboard carpet, red, blue and violet stains all around, loads of footprints and destroyed moss and messed up bird excrement and dry mud…

But I am not given time to think or consider, as she shoots a tentacle up and grabs as high as it gets onto the structure of the nearby metal column reaching towards the ceiling. With one powerful movement, she pushes herself up off the ground in a jump up, lifting the both of us and climbing further up the pole of the factory support. In a few seconds of focused effort painting likewise on her face as transmitted to me all around her, she manages to get us up under the roof up on a gantry, not losing the hold of me a slightest bit even for a second. She balances well and her movements are cautious and well measured. And soft.

The footsteps, as well as the voices down the factory corridors become clear. I fold my arms around her neck tight and hold on to her with all my overstrained ability. She is now so close, so very close to me, I’m touching her neck with my cheek and I can sense her scent. It is gentle and warm. It feels good and safe. I hug into her even stronger and the surreal idea of belonging fills me yet again, strengthened by the aura of the common escape from a threat coming from below...

But then, in the corner of my eye, I can suddenly see my small, open backpack among all the mess that we left behind, next to the rotten, fallen chair. Everything important - everything that could be summed up to my life: my ID, my mobile phone, the keys to my car and to my flat, th badge from the office… even my tools and the floor brush I fetched to clean up... all that is lying there downstairs, twelve meters below, now outside of my reach, left on the ground of the huge factory hall. Bits and pieces of me...

Time slows down abruptly as panic hits me freezing me cold and making my hair stand up out of a sudden. My world… my life… is there… left… abandoned… *out of control*... they are going to find it, take it away… Fear paralyzes me instantly. Who will water my flowers, service my car and dust my bookshelves… ? Is there still time to run down and fetch it? Fetch *my life* from the floor, from the pool of my red-blue blood… Maybe I could talk to those men that are coming, maybe I could explain to them… Get my belongings back… Or maybe I can be fast, go back down there and still grab it? _Sparklight, can you do something?..._

We are under the roof on a girder, together with scared pigeons flying frantically around us. There is no time… I feel it in the air, and I am so scared, there is not time, my body trembles… She is looking around frenziedly, where to go next, how to escape to safety. _My backpack, down there… Everything in it…_ But she seems too busy, she does not hear my thoughts… or these are the kind of thoughts she cannot hear? How can I tell them, these thoughts, apart? And… the sway of her body, the immobility of my limbs, the pain in my back, the fire on my skin, the dizziness in my head... they don’t help, they block me in the freezing panic, I cannot do anything while she is cradling me closely to her metal body like a baby ape.

She is crawling already along the gantry towards the nearest wall reaching a metal technical platform, and then she presses herself with effort through a broken window into a control room overlooking the turbine hall.

_Would we … would we… be able to make it?_

_To fetch my life in time before the footsteps materialize into persons who will inevitably see us in a few moments if we don’t disappear?_

_Would we … would we… be able to make it?_

_Would we…?_

She raises her head up to see through a half broken glass ceiling looking for the exit to the roof. Then she reaches out with her free tentacle again and tries to pull us both up to get outside. But the ornamented, enforced roof glass is too fragile and would make a lot of noise. She withdraws and listens… and so I listen.

We both hear the two men coming into the factory hall. They are almost there from where we fled… They look at the floor. They look at everything we left behind...

“My God, what is it?” - I hear one of them saying.

“Looks like... blood? Rather not paint. Fresh… mixed with something blue…”

“What the hell happened here?”

“You heard the screams same as I did. They did not manage to get away far… IS ANYBODY HERE?” - he addresses the air and the walls around. They answer with a faint muted echo.

“What a butchery… do you think… someone… they must be still here.”

“Look here, they left their stuff.”

“Easy cheesy… What do we have here… a backpack… Let’s have a look”

There goes my life… My comfy job and my beloved car, my phone full of secrets…

“Ms. Evangeline Ingebjörk Falk” - one of them obviously took out my ID and now he reads my full name inherited from my foster grandmother which I proudly took after her as mine despite its overall complexity. - “Well well well… The parents sure had imagination.”

~/There were no bloody parents/~ I spit within myself in a sudden short and sharp surge of anger and at the same moment I feel Sparklight’s arm twitch a little. She holds me a bit closer and takes up the effort to climb out again.

I have no idea who they are, probably security guards. I close my eyes for a second and my tail tells me: two men, one of them tall and hairy the other short and bald, fat. Both in uniforms, with gas weapons, no real shooting power. And now they are sticking their fingers into my stuff…

One is about to look up. I can feel how his head is moving upwards and what his intentions are. I see how he traces the stains of red and blue reaching up the support column where Sparklight climbed just a minute ago… I hear them whispering to each other, analyzing what they are looking at. I understand that in the meantime the other one secretly slips the cash from my wallet into his pocket… the at least 100 EUR that I had with me, just in case…

Something inside me tells me that Sparklight could just kill them both with one flick of her wrist. Same as I could run over random people on the street with my car… I extinguish this thought as soon as it appears, I don’t even want that a hint of it passes to her, but it sobers me up a little.

~/You can put me up there first, I am not that sick, I can manage… But how will we get off the roof then?/~ I think to her.

She looks at me and I answers shortly.

~/We will fly/~

And then she raises me through the hole in the ceiling and I crawl out trying to keep quiet and down. It is not easy, it hurts, but the threat and the adrenaline rush make miracles. _They fucking know who I am…_

As soon as I feel the fresh air around me I hear more sounds… and one of them is car engines approaching and the other, right beside me, is the broken glass ceiling under Sparklight’s heavy metal body crawling out using all her six limbs... Our cover is blown, our hideout revealed… Hasty footsteps run now inside the factory staircase, two cars brake to halt with a screech down below our feet.

We are trapped.  
Surrounded.  
Cornered.

We stand on the rooftop, both of us, me and her, facing the distant view of the city...

I look at her and she makes me understand in her wordless way: ~/Will you manage to hold on?/~

I nod and say:

~/What do I do?/~

Then she does something most wonderful I could imagine.

She transforms again.

Her body starts changing in a fast-slow motion sequence reverting bits and pieces of her skin and re-positioning her limbs and frame elements to become… something else. A flying machine, a plane, a bird, a fighter jet, a winged drone, not alike to anything I ever saw or read about but something different, alien, strange, shiny and marked with her colours. Wings wide-spread and lithe, tail long with all those ailerons and other complex steering bits I don't know names for, upholding a sleek long and thin body, hoovering slightly overground, not causing any noise, wind or disturbance of the air… I should not be surprised, but I am. _How did you do it???_

~/Hop on, I won’t let you fall/~

So I hop on… or rather climb on, laboriously hindered by pain and propelled by fear and adrenaline. She lowers down to the ground under my weight for a slight moment then she levels up with effort. Her feelers appear from nowhere and tie me to her in a strong hug. And then I hear the men in the control room just below us. They look up and see us as she’s rising slowly, gaining altitude in an exerted struggle. The next thing I remember is the smell of teargas that makes my eyes leak in tears, my breath burn in my chest and stifle me, my head explode and my body faint. But we are off, off to the sky and suddenly we drift far away, up over the security cars, over the factory, the city, in plain evening sunlight, where everybody can see us. Everybody who only raises their head up…

I hold on to her, to _my Sparklight_ and look at my world, that I watched so many times from the high floors of the building, getting smaller and smaller while she abducts me… saves me from this world, flying away into the unknown.


	8. Night Fall

 

I wake up in the middle of the night, confused and soaked in anxiety, the aftertaste of fear and intoxication. It takes me a few moments to understand that I’m not at home, not in my bed and this is not yet another nightmare chasing me after a workaholic day. I am away from home in an unknown place, buried in a large stack of rustling, dry hay, in almost total darkness.

I lie motionlessly and I stare into the obscurity above me for a few moments before I even dare to look around. Then I carefully reach my hand down to touch my back. There is hardly any pain. The injured parts are somewhat swollen but mostly dry, they are even somehow stitched or glued together. It does not curl me up when I touch it, although strain and tension creeps along the skin, suggesting the wounds started to settle and new tissue has begun to fill them in. The tail is in place, proving that the events from yesterday have not been an illusion. I do not even have to check it. I feel its presence, and the new set of sensations that it gives me when I focus. The smell of hay, the cold of the night, the ominous silence… I prefer not to think about it or ponder what it means. At least not now, not at the moment. Not before I get all the other things straight in my head...

I take a deep breath and try to relax in my nest of straw. It seems I have been truly well taken care of. I do not know if it’s been the gentian violet, her anesthetic healing or maybe the completely new, strange situation that made the pain feel gone or at least unimportant. I relish the relief until thoughts start coming back to me, one by one, approaching me from the dark corners of my hiding, filling my head slowly like dark water dripping into a brimful sink.

It is the *emptiness* that is wrong. It’s been the emptiness next to me that woke me up. What is wrong with emptiness? Did I ever really wake up or live differently? Empty bed, empty house, empty nighttime office… It was normal: darkness, emptiness, silence. What is wrong then? What is missing?... 

But the wrong, even if undefined, is there, it persists, it can be felt almost physically, as if a bubble of air turned into a hollow of vacuum just a few inches from me… I raise my head, and swipe the place with a hectic gaze. Darkness… disturbed by a rectangular shape of huge door, leading outside into the unknown, into the night. And within their frame, a black, lithe, unearthly silhouette at the background of a moonlit meadow. A deep exhale escapes my lungs blowing away a few blades of dry hay from in front of me. She does not seem to notice. She stands there, looking far ahead of her, motionless, as black as the darkness of the night trees in a distance. The colours and glowy lines I saw yesterday on her body almost disappeared. She leans heavily to the side with one arm rested on the doorframe, the other hanging idly along her slightly bent body. She looks like a morkvarg, a werewolf imprisoned in an inhuman disfigured shape, heavy and eerie, trapped in a forsaken world of shadows, in a place I do not recognise. 

_ So you truly exist… and I must be here for real... _

How much did she suffer from being cut off from the building infrastructure?... Yes, I released her, but… she must have been injured not less than myself - I realize - somewhere deep within her body, wherever the transformation relocated the cut cable endings which I tried to dress in paper towels so diligently back at the datacentre... Or could she have fixed herself? What do I know about her? Much less than she knows about me… 

My eyes slide along her dark, slim-sculpted but powerful silhouette. It bothers me over and over again - the reminiscence of cutting all those cables and wires, of the blue blood she called energon dripping from the cut connectors, and the tormenting pain I felt for a moment when she passed out. The memory is sharp and it wouldn't let go. It itches in my teeth and makes my throat gulp, as if I was cutting her veins or fingers off...  _ Ouch _ … An illusion cannot be that strong… can it? A single electric impulse correctly applied to my nervous system could do the job though, if targeted to the right spot in my brain to generate  _ pain _ … It happened in the history of humanity, hasn’t it? In a certain way we are all machines and our sensations, feelings, processes within us are induced by electric currents and biochemical reactions. We can be steered and programmed the same way as we proudly steer and program our machines… so what is the difference between me and her? Is there any? If she thinks, has the knowledge… and the access, which I have given her so willingly… I gaze back at her and a cold shiver passes down my spine. 

But I am not given more time for my metaphysical deliberations. 

She lets the doorframe go and takes a few heavy steps towards the meadow letting more moonlight inside.

I raise my head higher following her with my bluish gaze. Her movements are slow, laboured and so different to what I saw yesterday. Her arm twitches a little, she obviously hesitates over something. I watch her tensely, paying attention not to think anything that she could accidentally understand.

And then, she makes a decision. Her hand curls into a light fist for a second and then out of a sudden she takes off like a bird from its perch, runs a few fast steps forward and soars up to the air changing her shape abruptly… The moon glances in her wings that spread to the sides widely and for a split moment she is not even slightly manlike anymore. She is an airplane, a bird, an angel… right before she plummets like a stone from a few meters’ height. She hits the ground with a loud whomp, a painful crash, massacring the grass and bushes below her. 

_ Ouch! -  _ I curl up instinctively and almost gasp aloud but I keep my mouth shut covering it tight with my hand.

I lie frozen and immobilized with the sound of her fall ringing in my ears, with my eyes wide open and my hand still pressed over my lips. 

_ Oh my God, what was that? _

_ Is she trying to *leave* me? _

_ Does it hurt?  _

_ Should I... get up and help her? _

Panic hits me but I do nothing. I gape at her with no understanding watching how she collects herself slowly from the bramble, reverting to her normal shape and looking like Poison Ivy dressed in all that greenery tangled in her frame and armour. With her face still away from me, she takes long spiky twigs off from herself, one by one, putting them on the ground with strange care, as if she was not really sure what they were and how to deal with them. Could this all be new to her? Like to a child that had seen countryside on TV only… 

When she is done, she turns back towards the shed, focused, drowned in her own thoughts without looking at me. She stretches her limbs and comes back where she started. After a few moments she tries to do it again. She transforms to her flight form and rises over the grass but her body refuses to obey and she crashes again. 

Her shape is undefined for a slightly longer moment this time. She looks neither like herself nor like the flying machine that she had been when we fled the town. 

I lie and stare astonished, frozen in place, immobilized… I just watch how she keeps trying, over and over again, stubborn and determined, as if it was not only the matter of effect but of her own personal dignity or even just pure desperation.

_ Oh no, Sparklight, no, stop doing this, you are hurting yourself... _

I grit my teeth and shut my eyes tight partly not wanting to see her falling disfigured, partly not willing her to notice that I can see her failures. Although the sound of her collapsing to the ground could wake anyone up from the deepest sleep. I guess. But she seems to have forgotten herself in the helpless and hopeless attempts to fly, ending each time worse and worse, draining her energy and deforming her body in a scary way. 

After each crash her body reverts slower and with more effort. It takes dozens of small, now visible movements in order to restore her back to her humanoid shape, each time leaving her less perfect, kneeling, bent down lower and more broken. I sink within the itching hay with sunken heart, soft knees and elbows, while she just doesn’t give up. Again and again. The loop is endless, it lasts forever, with no mercy, no relief, no shade of success.

Finally, at the same time when the crack of dawn dissolves darkness into the first morning grey, she does not get up anymore. She remains leaning on her arms and knees, her trembling belly swiped with tall grass, her head hanging down, face hidden between the shoulders. I can see her thighs and elbows are shaking. A few small licks of blue are leaking from between the segments of her powerless and beaten body. Weird bits and pieces stick out of her frame where I have not seen them before, not locked back to place properly in transition. 

I sigh deeply overwhelmed by the sight. A thought that she might need help bounces back and forth in my empty skull. But I do just nothing. I just hide deeper where I am, where she put me to safety, after helping me out, patching me up, stealing me from the world.

She lasts like that, on her all four, for a longer while, the morning mist veiling her in grey and condensing on her surface, until she rises slowly and laboriously, head first, then the rest, with a painful screech of her metal body releasing very silent, completely human moan. 

She does not try to transform any further. She just sits down in the meadow and leans her robotic, mechanical head in her metal hands and remains motionless among the tall grass which smacks her body along with light cold morning breeze. So fragile and so easy to harm. So far from the grace with which she climbed up the factory production hall... Far from any lightness and strength, as if she weighted much more than I ever carried in my whole life combined. 

No wonder, perhaps, after being trapped and disfigured for so long it is a miracle that she could move at all, and now after a moment of enthusiasm from regaining her true form, a malfunction might have surfaced... Whatever the truth is, it hurts just from looking and thinking about it… about her mechanical body that seems, from what I now see yet again, to feel pain and be hurt… like mine?

If it was me sitting there, this way, so alone, after all so many failures to control my very own body, I would probably like to be crying. Which I did not do for so long. For years perhaps. I am not sure if still would be able to cry at all…

I feel like getting up and walking up to her. I would like to sit next to her, to touch her arm, to hug her perhaps... But my body feels heavy, and my head is dim. Sleep creeps in traitorously. And I haven’t slept properly for long… Now, oblivion is calling me. Now I am falling into darkness… with the vision of her sitting in the grass, with her head down, in the grey air below the misty sky, maybe crying if she can, or maybe keeping the tears in, if tears at all exist. Like I always did. Keeping the tears in. Swallowing the tears… I fall fast asleep.


	9. Crisscross Conundrum

****Silence. Silence is what wakes me, silence is what rings in my ears and spreads in my veins. Silence is the birds that stopped singing after their recital of dawn. It is the sun that goes up the horizon before the rest of the world gets up on its feet and starts shimmering and whispering with the sounds of brightness. Silence is what gives space for daylight to come and take over, so that it can finally feel warm.

I open my eyes and stare at the roof up above me.

_I remember._

At night the roof was dark and scary and the world was empty around me. I was confined. I lay here, hidden, cowering away, while she was falling and falling to the ground, endlessly… It was dawning, but I did not hear birds sing although they certainly must have. Otherwise there would be no silence to wake me…

Now the sun is shining its flat rays on me, intertwined with long shadows of distant trees. I turn over, raise my head and look straight into its beams that fall through a big square of light in front of me. It turns out to be a door of a barn or a shed lost somewhere in the fields. Everything is made of wood and it smells late spring or early summer. Grass is rustling outside in gentle wind, the world is ablaze in light and colour. I narrow my eyes and then I close them allowing the sun to caress my face.

I am still alone, but not so alone. I know she’s sitting there, right behind the wall, outside, facing the sun. Bathing in its chilly warmth… A fallen angel, a demon, a living machine. An alien.

It is Monday morning. I should be at work. I leave this thought afloat in my head for a few short moments. I turn over to my sore back again and look at the ceiling. I lost all my belongings not longer than an evening ago. Why then do I feel like I was on holidays instead? I feel into her presence outside, I listen to it, I capture the unknown sensation that flows through me invisibly. I relax my bones. It is Monday, I _should_ be at work. There are people depending on me, perhaps angry at me for not showing up, waiting for my tasks to be completed. And then, what about my keys, my home, my car? Does it wait there where I left it, or has someone stolen it, driven it away with their dirty, wrongful hands?

The air smells so fresh, and the world drowns in light. It is so blinding bright, and she is sitting outside, warming herself in the sun…

But my car… My home… My phone… someone might try to call me?

Will anyone be looking for me? Will they? _Will they…?_

So why does it feel like holidays? I do not know, but it feels like freedom. I do not understand.

I just _remember…_

I roll over from the haystack and slip down to my feet, onto the ground. It is solid and real. I feel it under my soles and it gives me support. I stretch myself and examine my back. It is dressed with something and the pain is bearable. I raise my shirt and see bandages going around my waist and upper hips keeping everything tight in place. She must have snatched the contents of the medical kit from the power plant and made good use of it. I shake my head in thoughtful disbelief. I cannot really turn over to see what she’s done, so I give it up and walk to the door. I stop in the same place where she stood at night, leaning with the same hand on the doorframe, seeing what she must have seen then, just in different light and colours.

She is sitting with her back to the wall of the little, old, overgrown shed where I spent the night. From its looks, the place has been abandoned for a nice couple of years already. The greenery is high and overwhelming. It smells with herbal essences from broken stalks and creased leaves slowly heating up with the rays of the sun. My eyes travel forward across the meadow in front of us which looks as if a hurricane passed through it last night.

I glance back at her. She’s sitting with one leg pulled up under the chin, the other stretched in the grass. She is holding her arm around her knee, while the other wing rests on the ground. Her hand is playing with the grass as she drowns her eyes in the greenery ahead. There is no way she did not hear me get up... 

I step forward, now into her range of vision, and my eyes slide along her silhouette. She seems smaller when she’s sitting. Apart from the plain devastation of the plant life, all other marks of her failed endeavours are gone. No remains of the leaks of blue blood, no deformed bits or pieces of her armour and mechanics sticking out anywhere...

I look at her from above now, her face is at the level of my chest. Though I am more than sure that she knew what I was doing all along, she looks up at me only when I stand in front of her cutting off the sun rays that blight her eyes. And she smiles faintly. Saying nothing.

This silence is unnerving. Dense and gluey and unexplained. Suddenly, the holiday feeling is overshadowed. I move a step aside, realizing that I stand over her leg and too close to her perhaps. I can feel that closeness like if she had an electromagnetic field spreading around her that would convey me different signals and communications even more silent and mysterious than those I could hear in my head in the form of thoughts. Now, though, I can’t hear these thoughts. Is it that I forgot how to do it or is she just not talking to me?

I tilt my head and stand still there in front of her, back to the sun, feeling how a cocktail of uneasiness and itchy tension raises in me pressing on my chest from within. Isn’t there something we should do, plan, talk about? Is she going to sit here like this for hours or what? We are at a dead end… aren’t we?

Actually, I do not know where we are. I have no slightest idea what we should do next. It is always so easy on the movies, but now, when it’s happening for real, it is making me uncomfortable. I would at least welcome a “good morning” or something. Something familiar, something understandable, something that would reinstate a slight bit of normality to this shiny Monday morning away from home. Her silence makes her more of a werewolf than a human, and a vision of her jumping on me like an animal and ripping my frame apart strikes my imagination for a split moment.

But she just looks at me curiously while my face must be changing expressions. She is a bloody alien, it comes to me now with all clarity of the sun that shines above us and warms my back and my glossy new tail. I shrug abruptly and she flinches in response. Her arm twitches a bit and it lands on the grass again. I remember this gesture from yesterday night… I raise my hand to scratch my head and I realise that my hair is dirty and I stink of sweat, tiredness and old hay. My muscles let go as suddenly as I got tense a moment ago and I slump to the ground settling down at her feet.

Oh My God… Only now I can hear my heart pounding. It resonates in heated pulsation of the wound on my back. I wipe my eyes with my hand covering them for a slight moment, then I look at her again.

“Good morning Sparklight” - I say to her first and she keeps gazing at me with that weird look, weighing something inside her and spreading this strange electromagnetic anxiety all around. Finally I hear her:

~/I can’t fly, Eva/~

Right… This… _Bloody hell, I *know*!... I’ve seen you, I saw you fall… Haven’t you heard me freaking out already?_ Her face does not change, she holds this strange expression and keeps looking at me while my eyes grow wider. Yet, keeping them open does not prevent the vivid replay of her deep-night fight with herself that I witnessed. Rise and fall. _Fallen angel, crushed hopes, broken dreams, a war-torn city of metal and concrete..._

“I… saw” - I mumble the words faintly and a wave of shame and infirmity floods me traitorously. I am bound not to think of my lost wallet and car keys for a while at least.

 _Thank you…_ I am lost as if I were standing on two ice floes drifting away into opposite directions. - “Sparklight… I… I…” - my voice hangs in the air. If I did not see it, I would ask what happened. But I saw it. I did nothing but glared at her from my darkness.

Her eyes scan me slowly and then she says:

~/I took you away from your people/~ her transmission is not so resolute as before in the power plant or back at the datacentre ~/I should bring you back to your home and let you go… You are free, you set me free, I don’t want to tie you instead/~ I bet her eyes blink in a nanosecond ~/But.../~ they slide across my tail, then over her wing resting among broken grass, and the sentence remains unfinished. Another long silence enfolds us.

I scan myself too, realizing that my clothes must be torn and they hardly hold on to me. The fresh wind gets under my shirt chilling my skin. I can feel that I am not only wounded but I am changed. What am I changed into? _Does she know?_

This thought consumes me enough to realize only with a good delay that she has put something on the ground in front of me.

I look at it and understand that it is my mobile phone. I almost gasp in surprise.

“How… How did you get my phone?” - I ask her feeling suddenly how my already overstrained vision of the world gets disturbed again in such a short time.

~/I took it from the factory. It fell when we were escaping… I turned the tracking off/~

I do not doubt it for a second, who else than her would be more suited to hack into a device as simple as a smartphone. And God only knows what else she read or saw in it, somehow I am not sure if her overwhelming presence ever bore any slight idea or understanding of privacy…

I take the device in my hand and weigh it thoughtlessly. It feels small and light. This phone, same as all other things I left behind, is a symbol of my life. The life so far. The parallel life. The real life. One that is not a strange dream. There is no place for that in this fairy tale, in this drama I somehow created for myself. Five minutes ago I was mourning its loss, why then now am I irritated that it’s found? Is it because it is real? It creates a connection, back to the *real* life again, and a sensation of lingering panic is creeping up my bones, spreading to my muscles, and surfacing on my face. I am a kid called back from the playground for homework before all the other kids finished playing… Five more minutes, please… Five more minutes of ignorance, five more minutes of delusion before I will have to think about reality again, about what overgrows me much more than Sparklight herself and all the bramble around us. I want to understand the dream first before I am back to tackle the real.

~/You can call your friend/~ she shoots right from the blue sky, waking me up.

“My friend?”

~/The one who will help you/~

“What?”

~/The one that you pushed at the door/~ she says and I almost burst in hysterical laughter, but I stop as soon as I started. The ice floes I’m standing on not only drift apart now, they break into pieces and I am throat deep in freezing water, one more move and I’ll be drowning…

_Don’t be naive…_

“I do not need anyone… But thanks for the phone. I thought I’ve lost it… like all the other things” - I lower my eyes and I fumble with the device in my hand. It is turned off. I look at her again and see that she watches me focused.

~/Is there something like _my people_ at all?/~ I wonder casting away an image of Martin picking me up from this God-forsaken shed with Sparklight watching us from hiding around the corner. This is not a vision I want. I did not free her to leave just like that, and come back to yet another grey, identical day at the office, with monotonous life chained in repetitive routines. It is not what I read all the books and dreamt all the dreams for…

~/Those that are more like you… human beings that you knew and had social relations with.../~ she utters in the meantime in her mysterious ways.

 _Social relations…_ I frown a little and wonder if she knows at all what she is talking about. I’m clearly more worried about my things and belongings than about other people, I realize. I have so much of everything I don’t want to lose: my books, my computer, my records, my car and my bank account that gives me stability after years of fear, my little flat with my bookshelves and pictures on the walls, my gaming account with all achievements, for hell's sake, even that… and plants that would not water themselves alone. People don’t directly show first on the list. People are a liability and I owe them, they expect things that I shall deliver...

Her eyes change colour slowly as she watches me thinking. I have no idea what she makes out of me, so I send a quick question to the air to gain time or change direction:

“Supposing there are _my_ people… where are _yours_? Are there any? Were you born or made?” - I almost choke at this question ~/What ...are you?/~ I wonder surprised with myself that I ask this only now.

For some reason, she is not upset. She is calm as a stone, and I guess this is how I learnt to know her already. So calm, yet full of something… This field floating around her. Telling things that just don’t get to be said in any other way.

~/I don't know/~ she says bluntly, with no hesitation ~/I sort of… know my own structure, I know things about the world that I could read in your networks, but I don’t know who I am myself, and I found close to nothing about it... Like both the world and my memory have been purged of me. But I feel identity, there, inside, in my spark. I am here. I know that I *do* exist and I am learning… and I know I had memory, once/~ she looks back at the green fields while I am trying to understand her. Then she continues ~/I don’t know how I was able to fly you away from the city. I tried last night and it feels like I am broken. I know I have it encoded within me but there is something wrong/~ and as if to prove it she raises her both hands up and, same as in the power plant, they change shape for a split moment into something dangerously reminding me of complex bladed weapons, but it disappears too quickly for me to identify. I dare not ask what it was.

“You said… close to nothing? So could there still be something you found? A little?” - I wonder.

~/I only found some fragmented data that doesn’t add up, some of it coded or erased/~

“And couldn’t you hack into it, recover it...?” - I hear depths of doubt in my own voice, already trusting in her big data omnipotence.

~/There is a lot of fiction on your networks/~ she says and I have to agree. Fiction is the major content. Everyone feeds themselves with fiction, with post-truth reality, everpresent marketing, politics and religion, sometimes I feel like everything ever posted or broadcasted is a work of fiction or manipulation, and me sitting here with a mechanical werewolf is more real than what you can ever find online.

~/This here… is real/~ she continues as her hand strokes the thin, juicy green blades of young grass almost tenderly. I follow her fingers with my eyes and their movement hypnotises me. I can see the joints and bearings, their detailed robotic structure combined with agility that is fascinating ~/You are real…/~ she goes on without looking at me and the movement of her fingers becomes even lighter and softer. She is a gentle giant caressing those little leaves, so unlike the savage and desperate monster beaten by the insubordination of her own body yesterday night, when she brought devastation to the greenery in front of us. The remaining grass stalks stand in contrast with her dark colours, metal construction and sharp-looking edges.

She keeps silent for a longer while and then she raises her arm from the grass and just simply takes my hand in hers. She lifts it turning the inner side up. I stiffen inside me fighting with a bundle of undefined thoughts shooting through my head as she looks carefully at my palm as if she saw one for the first time in her life. My hand is so small, it does not even match half of hers. She holds it with care as if it was made of thin fragile china. I hardly breathe when she traces my lifeline with her finger and then continues along the blue veins showing through the thin skin of my forearm. She does it with the same tender gentleness as she did it with the grass. It tickles a little and makes my skin tense, my head light and my flesh warm. If I thought I was overwhelmed or confused yesterday, I was so wrong.

~/What are you made of?/~ she asks looking curiously at me as if I were the eighth wonder of the world, and the whole part about flying and coming back to people never happened. In the first moment, I do not understand the question. For sure she must know… same way as she knew how to use the old medical kit from the factory, she must know what humans are made of...

“This is…” - I start carefully - “...flesh.” - I use this word and it feels strange - “Human flesh… it is made of water, lipids, proteins...” - At the same time I take note, between the lack of breath and a heartbeat, that she is touching me with her hand now, not her feeler anymore like she did before.

~/I know… oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium, phosphorus... I did not mean a _human_ , I meant, you, yourself, your _spark…_ What is your spark made of? You are different than humans I have seen in the building… You can transform, you let me feed you.../~

I am speechless and dumb as she looks closer at the blue veins visible through my wrist like she was searching for something inside there. It strikes me that none of us knows what really flows in them. _Is it real blood or something else?_ And, if I was clueless what to do before, now I am lost completely. Her touch on my hand is a bit rough, yet gentle. Strangely electrifying. I feel how it sends a shiver down my spine right to the end of my tail.

She says nothing but she leans herself a little closer to me, then she lets my hand go and raises her long arms to my shoulders. I sit frozen in place until she gently draws aside my torn shirt uncovering the naked skin on my upper chest. I know she was dressing my wounds already when I was unconscious, I know she is not a human being and even hard to compare to anything at all, yet I blush instinctively and I grab the clothes trying to put them back in place.

“Hey, I need this” - I say lamely to her, embarrassed, not knowing or understanding what she actually intended. - “This is what protects me from the weather, my body is fragile, and…” - Gentle breeze and the bright sun above us wink at me sarcastically but she withdraws obediently letting me digest how downright stupid my explanations must sound.

~/I’m sorry/~ … ~/Your spark… is it placed in your chest?/~

“My spark?” - I hear this familiar but strange word again and finally try to decipher what she has in mind.

~/Your... life force/~

“You mean my heart or my soul?” - I try.

~/No… Hmm… Yes. Something like that…/~ She gives up explaining as if these were just semantics, and she tries to help me dress again. For some reason I let her. I am like a doll or a child. She places the split parts of my clothing together over my shoulders again and tries to fix them together somehow, tie them up with a bit of straw where the buttons got lost. She is like a nest-building bird or a big monkey mom cleaning the fur of her baby. I look up at her and for some reason it is heartbreaking. Her face is focused and sorry and caring. And the memory of how she could not fly is still imprinted in me... What is getting me so sentimental?

“Well I don’t know what a spark is” - I break the silence - “but, yes… my heart is in my chest. Although I am not sure anymore what I have inside, so there may well be a ...spark or whatever else in there” - I say the last bit more to myself than to her - “it seems I’ve became heavier for no apparent reason and I have that tail… or what that is eventually” - I move its tip hesitantly remembering suddenly of its existence. It drags a bit on the wound causing discomfort. - “I think… It started after the first time I… met you.”

She says nothing to that. She just stops putting my clothes back on and she bows her head towards her own chest as if she was comparing the way we are built. I pull my legs towards me holding them with both my arms now. I remember the euphoric though sickening feeling I had when I experienced the first conscious connection with her. It was so addicting and… exhilarating…

Insects buzz in the tormented bushes as if nothing ever happened. The sun keeps shining at us reflecting in her dark surface. It is not glossy but it seems to have little particles inside it ingesting the light, then releasing it back in a transformed, magical velvet brilliance.

The silence is heavy and the air floating around her is full of uneasiness and unasked questions. It strikes me that it should be me to pose inquiries, yet it is her looking at me like a child lost in an R-rated cheap science-fiction movie. This time I do not freak out like an idiot. I keep my ice floes together in one current, miraculously saving myself from drowning. I take a deep breath.

“This about clothes…” - I say hesitantly with an impulse that drags my chaotic thoughts back on the track of commotion which I seem not to be able to defy ever since I first saw her. - “It has a deeper ...layer to it. People uncover some parts of the body only in front those who are really close to them, it is meaningful” - I say slowly and not sure if that is a good idea to explain this anymore, feeling how many tires of meaning I actually have inside my own self about it. How many times did I take my clothes off in front of those who were *not* meaningful at all? Who, even more, hurt me and who deprived me of dignity? Is it really about taking the clothes off, why would that matter at all? Naked pictures of many people hang around on posters and in the media everywhere. And I am liberal and I never minded that…

On top, since long, I considered myself a machine anyway, my body doing what my mind decided. So the body mattered only as much as it was useful for. The material shell has never been the real me… This way I tried to avoid all that would have any meaning among things that hurt me. And here, now, why would I at all explain this to an alien creature, who did not have even an idea about what it means to be naked or dressed. One, who is naked by default if I understood it correctly. One who saw the world through the internet and security cameras of an office building… And for whom it would not make any difference probably. Do they, _as if there is any “them”_ , understand the idea of privacy or closeness at all? I peek at her suspiciously. What would it mean to explain the idea of clothes, nakedness and intimacy to her? Why on Earth am I going into that blind alley?... - “It is about closeness” - I continue - “the physical… togetherness, like, when people like each other, feel safe together, and they join up and… _enjoy_ each other, physically…” - I am embarrassed by the stupidity of my explanation that goes sideways, exactly into the realms I wanted to keep away from, that stems from somewhere deep within me, from the attraction I feel for her and which I do not understand, from all the heartbeating and the strange softness in my body that eludes me… I fall silent finally not finishing the stupid embarrassing sentence, while she looks at me…

She looks at me, with these wise eyes of hers, these damn *wise*, intelligent, meaningful eyes that, unlike yesterday, I’ve mysteriously avoided so many times today morning.

And then she does _this._  In an instant, I see how the solid armour plates covering the front of her body start dismantling on her chest sliding aside and revealing something that may well be compared to very complicated mechanical skin or tissue made up of thousands little particles built of I have no idea what... It is glowing dimly, generating the soft matte light I saw only in-between these armour seams of hers so far… The phone falls out of my hand and my heart jumps out of my breast. It pounds as if I were running a marathon. Whatever I managed to calm down inside me today, is now back on “high”, in the crazy mode again.

I *do understand* exactly what she is doing and I hold my breath as she grabs my hand again and raises it towards her now truly naked chest. Slowly and gently, she pulls me closer by my arm, not touching me anywhere else as if it was purely my decision if I wanted to be touched... I do not protest, my mind is stunned and stupid and embarrassed and shy. I just get up and follow bending really close to her, with my knees slightly trembling, leaning against her thighs so that I can reach her chest and touch what she has just undressed for me, killing all my argumentation, taking down my defenses, without a single word of any logic. She guides my hand steadily allowing me to feel it. To feel her.

 _Oh, Sparklight, what a demon you_ _are_ …

She is alive the same way as I am. Maybe she has got something called _spark_ inside her, there, where I have a heart, but down under this armour, she is strangely soft and pulsing and warm as if she had a heart. And she is filled with electricity which I can feel with my hand. It doesn’t bite me though. There is life, same as mine, throbbing, beating, pulsing within her. She is no alien to me. I move a little closer and I feel how she becomes tense…intense. Warmer.

_Oh, Sparklight… do we know what we are doing…?_

And I can perfectly imagine how she could raise her wing and embrace me. It thrills me to the bone just to think of it. I don’t even try to imagine what it all leads to. Instead, I do not think, at all. I clumsily undo the remaining buttons with my free hand and spread aside my shaggy shirt that she tried to tie together on me so laboriously just a moment ago. I bare my chest without looking up at her and I pull her other hand up from the grass towards me. Big and strong, it is surprisingly light as if it weighed nothing. I place her long fingers on my naked skin pushing them slightly towards me so that I can feel their metal roughness pressed towards my ribs.

We are like garden sculptures, reaching to one another, frozen in time by a mad artist, dipped in greenery and soaked in epic symbolism conjured from my lame explanations of things I never wanted to say, but which escaped to the world in such an unkempt way. I finally collect all the bravery again and look back at her face. Her eyes flicker impossibly as I nod my head guiding her hand to slowly touch the matter of which my body is made and let her feel the heart that is beating, now really intensely, inside me. Then I move closer, climb a little more over to her lap and press my cheek against her naked chest closing my eyes. I do not see it but I feel something strong embracing me all around and I am sure that it is her feelers with those soft little tendrils coating my nakedness as she pulls me closer and covers me with her wings hiding me from the world.

_Where have the ice floes gone and why is the cold water burning?..._

We sit like this for a while as if to get used to what we’ve just done. With eyes closed, I dare not move the slightest bit, yet I am falling into her. I am weightless, my mind is flowing across my whole body, a few worlds deeper from what I felt when we fled the factory flying away on her jet wings. _Leaving everything behind._  What am I doing? Will I be able to bear it? There is still a way back… is there? My heart is beating like mad inside me and something in her pulses as intense. I try to listen to her body but it only gets me more dizzy and I feel how I am losing ground by the minute, moment by moment the longer it lasts. She smells that sweet metallic smell I know already, a little chemical but also biological as well, a bit like bitter dark honey perhaps. Her tentacles wrap around me and slip down my legs pulling them closer, cradling me and curling me up in her embrace… My very own well known gluey dim-white wetness oozes slowly inside me as they rub against me just inches away from my core, segment by segment… Rubbery and warm. The rest of the torn shirt slides off almost without any help. But I am not cold at all.

 _Oh, Sparklight, what a demon you_ _are_ … _What are you doing with me…_

I raise my face slowly, I look her in the eyes that flicker at me from above. She half-closes them and I see… I see a _feeling_ in them… I see fire and I see… ah! I lift myself with my hands pressed against her chest and I *kiss* her. I kiss _my Sparklight…_ like I wanted from the very beginning when I first saw her... _my demon, my alien, my robot, my strangest creature..._

Her hand sneaks into my hair and holds my head from behind, letting it rest supported as she accepts the kiss with a slow soft touch of her lips. It is as gentle and delicate as I could only imagine of a metal being. Her lips are made of myriads of small bits that move delicately imitating my own muscles and tissues. Her touch is warm. She first seems to try it, a bit tense and stiff, as if she was mimicking me or replaying something that she only saw on the internet, but then, I just literally feel how she releases that tension, catches the rhythm, relaxes and comes alive. She kisses me back...

There are no questions in my mind anymore. I melt slowly as she, much too fast for my comprehension, takes over and overwhelms me with the sweetest kiss I ever experienced. Any touches of humans I have ever known and had in my bed weren't even close to matching it, even though or maybe *because* she doesn't feel human. Her tongue is not a tongue but a flexible rubbery metallic feeler that surely has another function but it can magically adjust to my mouth and is capable of the gentlest smoothest caress reaching in slowly to where I can feel it most, to where it teases me into pleasure, exactly the way I am programmed to feel as if she knew that all along... and though there is no reason for it but there is organic wetness in her and its flavour resembles the taste of a dream, one from which you wake up warm and wet and greasy inside…

Maybe this is all fake, maybe she can read it and play it from my head, the same way that she speaks to me and hears some of my thoughts... She is so scary, but I don’t really care, I just take it as it is. My body speaks for me, I become weak and calm. There is a softness in me I don’t remember feeling but in my dreams. My skin is tense, dense and receptive to her alien caress. It’s like someone threw me down to an endless ocean and I started blending in, disintegrating and joining the infinity of water. I cannot really even move properly, my body just wants to rub against her and it wants to _let her in_ \- to feel her connection in the neck, get her feelers down between my legs and up in my guts. I shiver as they slide along my thighs and reach my feet in a snakey movement. _Find your way, please_ something prays inside me, and I arch up almost forgetting where I am, who I am, why I am here… I am reaching my arms even further around her, as tight as it gets. I try to embrace her lamely with my all-too-weak, fragile and all-too-little body, pressing myself into her tighter, reaching with my own tongue deeper between her lips. My eyes are closed again, and my mind is locked in the eternity of the moment, I feel how she moves her hand within my hair and how I’m stupidly blooming inside as if someone planted spring flowers in my belly and chest and filled them with white butterflies. They are growing and shimmering in me and my head goes round while she tightens her grip over me slightly, recognizing the weakness of my body, holding me from falling and rocking me gently in this embrace, while I...

...forget to breathe.

Drowning in her arms, I realise how memories of my past life, my failed endeavours of happiness, love and success, my everlasting loneliness, the self-inflicted compulsiveness that has been keeping my guts tightly bound and my soul in check leaving me unfulfilled and empty inside, the ice-cold and fiery violence committed by me and against me, the bad words and bruises which I had been taking for nothing, the dark empty night ceiling above my bed, the sad humming of my computer, the worried faces of my pictures, the broken shelves and bent walls of my flat… how my whole enduring, tackling, getting by to the next day, how my whole emptiness and my running, how all this falls off me like petals of rust.

And then in that moment of transcendent relief, something crashes. It breaks down inside me. As if I accidentally pressed a red button of a release mechanism in a dam that has been stopping an ocean from breaking free, but there’s been way too much water for far too long already. The overstrained barrier breaks and I get flooded... The whirlwind of unnamed emotions thrashes that invisible wall within me, my heart stops for a millisecond, while all my blood rushes down the fierce, boiling waterfall together with the released ocean waters, right into an open abyss. An involuntary gulp throttles my throat and now I cannot breathe for real. I gasp for the air and out of the sudden my eyes become wet and our kiss becomes salty. Desperately, in panic, I’m trying to stop the tears, but the only thing I can do is swallow them down my throat, staining the tip of her tongue with bitterness of my trembling outbreak. My lower lip starts to twitch in a nervous movement and something inside my lungs clenches in an irregular, torn rhythm...

With our lips together, with my hands rooted in her flesh and my tongue tangled with hers, with her rubbery tendrils all over my body, sneaking in between my legs almost licking on the taste of me, one step away from reaching inside, where I so desperately need her... I burst in tears.

I know how pathetic I am but I cannot stop it. A severe wave of sudden sobbing tears my lungs apart in an empty cry. I hardly release any sound but my whole body is wrenched in the hard grip of my hopeless drama. My reason is defeated and knocked out by the throbbing heart and hyperventilating lungs. I don't know what is going on with me, my body has taken over even more than ever, I am not myself anymore, I have lost it, my demons are out and they’re ripping me apart into bits and pieces...

I shut my eyes so tight that it hurts and I hold on to the kiss. I push it stronger trying to subordinate my hysteric body to my will, I dig my tongue even deeper in her mouth and hold her tighter, with an obsessive intensity as if nothing happened… I clench with my thighs to her feelers, my knees to her waist, I wish she just did it, that she just pushed in, forced an intercourse, put an end to my stupid tension, the faster the better, got it over with, threw me on the ground later and left me there to rot and cry my shameful tears in the solitude of my empty, sad mind and gruesome cold.

But this is not happening. There is no way to cheat her. She feels the salt in my mouth and she recognises the sudden change in my body. I will never know how she seems to comprehend better what I need than my own twitchy, compulsive being does, bred on the necessities from the past.

She changes completely in one second, from a lover to a friend, from desire to warmth. She pulls me closer hugging and holding me in the nest of her disproportionately long wings and soft tentacles. A radiating soft hum of the magic energy field spread around her now shows concern and care. She raises me in her arms and cradles while I’m curled up, sobbing and choking silently. She strokes my head and hair and my face while a storm of uncontrolled feelings squeezes and twists my bowels and lungs and my heart, that pounds restlessly in my chest as if it was me and not her falling from the sky forever last night. She lowers her head and presses lightly her cheek to my breasts listening to my heartbeat… and then she raises her face again and her tentacle embraces me stronger, pulsing delicately in my own rhythm. Not the hectic one of sobbing but the calm one of what my heart would be like if I slept.

Very slowly, the melody of her body and her firm embrace calm me down. I start breathing again. My frame still shivers but I am trembling less and less allowing this sudden outburst to pass in small bits, away from my emptied brain and my still hectic heart. Her chest is still naked and she is holding me close.

I let my hands go, realizing they were fixed into her skin so firmly that my fingers hurt. I soften inside and I relax slowly the clenched muscles, one by one. Finally, I’m calm enough to realize back who is holding me and where I am. I wake up from my hysteric state just to find her skin glowing next to my cheek with dim colours and warm strange softness of harsh mechanics and rubbery insulation, cradling me. I fold my arms on her neck and pull myself even closer, I do not want to let go, I want this to stay forever, I want to be like this, with her. A gloomy thought in my head reminds me that she is a machine and I am… something, but I honestly do not care. My thoughts whirl in my mind as my body weakens and faints slowly, falling into sleepy numbness, in plain sunshine, after the storm that passed through me for no reason, relying more and more on the arms that hold me, the wings and feelers that nurture me, as if I were a little baby, first time in my life perhaps, first time ever… I allow myself to rest.

_I can be weak because you are strong. I don't have to run, because I can just let myself drown in you. I can give up, I can let go, because you are here. For once, I do not need to prove anything or fight for anything. For once I do not have to get up on my feet and go further when I stumble. I can just close my eyes and fall, fall into the deepest of my undefined depths, not bothered with anything, leaving everything behind because you are here, you exist, you protect me. I trust you unconditionally for no reason. Just because you are._


	10. Benefit Of Doubt

 

_The ancient magic of gentian violet cannot cure everything. It can cure close to nothing… Kissing and crying, though, cure a lot. They do not cure everything, but they leave a calming and soothing film on the soul, even if it is just for once, by accident, experiment, impulse… Even if this is an alien demon that kisses you in a dream. If only it is the one you truly dream of and it’s still there when you wake up…_

I am lying on the hay again. My world sways gently around me in a light fever while Sparklight is checking my wounds. I cannot get enough of her checking them. Even though it hurts, I enjoy the touch and the healing power of her purple stained feelers smearing the last of the gentian violet on my swelling lacerations.  She tightens the stitches made of some alien metallic threads that she put on it last night, God knows where from, and without my knowledge, same as the _nanities_ which she used on the spots where my spine mutated and produced metal out of the bone, as she explained it to me, wondering heavily over my dual nature. I do not even dare to ask what these _nanities_ are exactly… But…

...I am *not* metallic. In my limited comprehension I do not even have any dual nature. I am... *me*. I have not even grown to accept the fact that I do have some metal parts in me, though I have seen it with my very eyes and recognized with my own, now seemingly extended, senses. I am a human being with something strange happening to me. I am flesh and bones, I am… I don’t know what I am…

We do not talk about the kissing. But I still feel it in me. She thrills me to the bone, I keep forgetting the world having her near me, my soul is focused on her and her only, and my body screams for her closeness and maps all that she does with me, drawing patterns of memory along her pragmatic and cautious touches. I am a bundle of need and desire, one that I never believed existed, one that spreads to the tips of my toes and the very ends of my hair. I do not even bother about the vacuum between the heart and the stomach anymore. I just focus on keeping _restraint_. With all my might. I don’t know what to do… So, I just lie and daydream.

I can only guess what she might feel or think about me. She is not me, she is not even like me, I have no idea if there is a slight analogy between the two of us at all. I would like to imagine there is. I have no solid points of reference… even what I saw in her eyes, that fire, how can I know if that was real? Or what it meant in fact? Maybe it was just the red that was surfacing over the blue for a moment… After all, I learned already that her eyes are never the same, the colours float one over the other like on a Christmas tree… the red and the blue, hot lava and frosty ice, intertwined.

The wounds are not doing so well, they are worse than I thought in the morning. Despite her efforts, they are becoming ugly and touchy, completely human, fleshy, painful and inflamed, with no means to treat them at hand. They are swelling and leaking again, among others, thanks to my careless and heated gymnastics in her arms and feelers.

I lie calm, having run out of ideas, while she is trying to patch me up with her methods. My camisole went to waste already used as neatly torn dressings keeping my meat with my bones together. The old bandages are mostly soaked in with dried blood, plasma exudate and yellowish bacteria-filled slime mixed with the intensive purple dye. They are hanging on a wooden beam next to me looking ugly.

My mouth is dry, I feel every breath scratching my throat and I hardly produce any saliva. I dramatically need to find a source of water to quench my thirst and to wash the bandages, same as I need to wash myself. I may be a drama queen in depths of my secret worlds but it does not mean that I stopped to need to drink, wee or poo like I always did, like all humans do, although my meager diet recently put its mark on the overall quality of the functioning of my digestive tract. Likewise I need to clean my clothes at least a little and then perhaps try to stitch them together somehow along the cuts on my back. Thanks God I have a belt that holds my jeans on me and it did not get torn in half by the emerging blades on my spine. Now they are strangely squeezed and hidden under the dressings. She was magically able to manipulate my new body parts to obey and hide in a way that does not rip the bandages anymore. I am not able to turn around enough to see what she did precisely, so I just have to trust her… again.

Sparklight cautiously ties the last knots on the dressings and I follow every touch of her feelers that do all the job, hands hanging aside idle and unused as usual. It tempts me to ask about it, it tempts me to ask so much. Everything tempts me and I have a whirlwind in my head. The fever starts shaking me although it is warm, so much warmer than the previous days, as if I ordered a special weather package designed for someone with no spare set of clothes or almost no clothes at all.

We are running short of supplies. I have to figure something out, or else the basic real life problems will kick in with their true genuinity any minute, and these will not be first world problems, but those of survival. I have to get home somehow or will need a quick course in homelessness that goes beyond romantic sitting in the sun in an isolated countryside shed.

The phone lies in front of me. I stare at it blindly.

~/That’s it, this is what I can do/~ I can hear her in my head and I try to turn around but she does not let me. I can feel how she gently presses me back to the haystack. I give up.

~/The only thing I can do is to dock you for a moment, it will bring you relief/~ she says while her face emerges in my view. She rests herself near me, her eyes just maybe twenty centimetres away from mine. It is yet another time I have a feeling that she emits something like a field around her and this radiation fills me with comfort.

I nod willingly. There is only few things in the world that I want more than this _docking_ but I am not able to name them even in front of myself. I close my eyes and let her plug in. A warm stream of goodness fills me and my body floats in a bath of complacency. I forget about water… _But_ _I remember… what?…_ It tempts me to lean my forehead against hers, to kiss her lips again, to feel all that was so abruptly cut by my childish outbreak before… but something stops me.

~/How long did I sleep?/~ I think to her instead.

~/Not long/~ she replies not moving her lips at all. That is another unasked question I have. What does she need lips for if she can be well a UAV jet or a box in the floor...? Are the forms she takes what she really is or is it just because she is here and she’s chosen a shape that lies on a path of compromise between what she might really be and what I am myself? Is this thinking a symptom of megalomania on my side again? To think that she, a Venomish robotic werewolf, a metal shapeshifter, would *choose* parts of me for design of her own body?

~/What about your wounds?/~ I look at her, fighting the need to hug in closer, to bury my face in her neck, to lean into her with the whole of my frame, like a kitten to a cat mother, as if she were furry and soft, which she is eventually not, but what does it matter… I take a deep breath tasting her smell on my tongue and filling my lungs with it - hardly discernible but still tickling my synapses in an almost unbearably sweet way. Her blood is circulating now inside me and I ponder if the trick that she makes is the wonder cure for all the evil of the world... Can she read it from my face?

~/I am completely fine/~ she replies and I know instantly that there is not a slightest bit of truth in this statement. Maybe it is in our connection, maybe it resonates in the electromagnetic field around her, maybe it releases through the same uneasiness and electric tension that I felt back in the datacentre when I was cutting her off from the mains and she passed out… It is there, the doubt, the question, the contradiction. Her weakness is telling - why does she lie down next to me and she doesn’t move almost at all? Is it… normal for her, a four meters tall powerful looking robotic alien, this immobility, this powerlessness, this minimisation of any effort, doing only those movements that are strictly necessary...?

“What… does it do to me? Your connection… Why don’t I feel any pain now?” - I ask full of weird thoughts.

She turns really slowly over to her back so that I cannot look her straight in the eyes anymore and she remains silent for a few moments. I can see again how sharply cut and angular her frame is, full of metal bits like knives and blades, smoothly fitted together… I can’t decide if it is beautiful or scary…

~/The pain does not go away.../~ she says finally ~/I just revert it so that you do not have to feel it/~

“You revert it…” - I repeat after her - “It means you’re reverting it… right now… but it's still there?” - I make sure if I understand correctly. I allow my thoughts to circle around in my brain for yet another moment of silence while I look at her cheek and her profile and I see how the detailed bits and pieces of her face create a pattern of almost invisible movements that change her expression as if she were made of skin and muscles - “So in fact it still can be felt…” - I reformulate the thought following my line of deduction. The conclusions that come to me make skin stiffen on my, supposedly painful, but now relieved, back.

She nods lightly and an unpleasant gut feeling makes me focus all my attention on her, forcing away the blurry and calming bliss of the connection. I raise my head in effort and seek her eyes with mine as realisation fills my crowded brain:

“You… you… YOU...”

She closes her eyes and does not look at me even with their corners anymore.

“YOU feel it instead!!” - I say a bit too loud and my hand reaches almost automatically back to my neck. With a strange, incomprehensible anger and deep regret I grab her feeler and tear it abruptly out of my spine. Long, unexpecting tendrils stretched out from its tip linger inside me and it takes a good pull to take them out whole. They are longer and thinner than I thought, soft and flexible like twigs of a plant or fish whiskers… How deep did she penetrate me?

“Oh my God” - I gasp simultaneously as a painful grimace surfaces on her face the moment I pull the tendrils out. Everything, all the ache, comes back, and it takes a few moments for her to drag the thin threads back into the feeler and retract it inside her body. She glances swiftly at me and then she looks up at the ceiling avoiding my eyes again. I try to get up slowly and I sit next to her. This time she does not stop me. She lies stretched out next to me and I’m finally able to look at her from the above.

“Why are you doing this?”... - I feel swollen and there is no comfort in any position that I take.

She stays silent, and just stares away, then finally she utters:

~/It is logical.../~

“Jesus Christ…” - I sigh and look at her seeking to catch her eyes. - “I can handle my own pain myself… It is not the pain that is the problem, it is the infection...” - I say it and I immediately know that I’m not only lying but I am nasty to her. I hate myself for unplugging the heaven from my system, but not for the sake of pain. It’s for the sake of everything else, for the mental soothing that came with the docking, for the wonders it did to my soul… An unpleasant cold thrill sows goosebumps all over my skin making the hair on my arms stick out like on a scared cat.

~/I would fly you home, but.../~ she says to the empty air around us straying from my gaze.

~/But you are _completely fine_ and just accidentally you cannot transform.../~ I think sarcastically regretting it exactly the very same moment the words leave my head. I don’t know what has come over me. I look at her with hopeless eyes, but what has been said is said already. Why can't I just be nice? Isn’t it because nice is _dangerous_ ? Is it because there is a great magnet sitting inside my chest that throbs impatiently dragging me to her metal being remorselessly? I keep fighting with it over and over again, like an angry boy in the primary school that pulls his favourite girl by the hair… I reflect. _I remember..._

~/Call him then/~ she says without looking at me.

~/Call whom.../~ I know whom, why am I bloody even asking this?

~/We are in a reachable distance, he can come and may do something to help you/~

~/Do what, see what I look like now? Half naked, with a metal tail and a torn ass, right?/~

~/It is a risk, but there has always been a risk/~

~/Even so… what about you?/~

~/Irrelevant/~

“Stop being like this…” - I moan aloud looking at her, distraught. I try to pat her arm gently with my hand, she gives me a look back and that look freaks me out. Her eyes are shady and they almost don’t flicker in colours, like if electricity nearly stopped powering those myriads of little sparks inside them.

~/Be reasonable/~ she continues with her cruel logic ~/What I wanted was just to be free from that… place. I am free now. I cannot fly… so what? I can still walk… You are sick and it is important to fix you. I cannot do it, I would if I could but I see where it’s going, you are septic and I’m not equipped for that. If you really want your practical scientific perspective, say I am reliant on you, you need to get better so that you can help me find out who I am/~ she finishes, looking at me with her now greyish eyes and I can feel how my throat narrows around a bump inside it, which first weighs over my chest and then plumps into my stomach leaving a sore path behind. Why, why, why does it always have to be this way?

Sideways?

 

* * *

  
  
So we are now staring at the phone that lies in front of us. I press the power button and turn it on. The starting screen winks at us and we are both hypnotizing the company name and logo displaying in a sequence that takes forever.

I shrug with a cold thrill.

~/I don't see how this is a good idea/~ … ~/He will not understand, he cannot handle wounds beyond basic first aid, I cannot go to a hospital, the phone may be tracked, someone… unauthorised may find us… you… no one should see you, do you realize that you are not something one meets everyday on this planet and they might want to hurt you… and… /~

~/You need antiseptics… antibiotics/~ she cuts me off ~/… against the bacteria in you, I can see the wound is full of them, they are multiplying. You need carbohydrates and protein and fiber to fuel you, you will run empty soon. You need clothes to keep your body temperature stable.../~  
  
~/Cannot we steal some?/~ I share the first idea that comes to my mind that doesn’t require asking for any intervention of others...

~/Have you ever stolen anything?/~ she sighs audibly, so that I can literally hear it.

~/I stole you, if that counts/~ I shoot from the top of my head and the corners of my mouth go up forming to a smile.

~/You never rely on anyone, do you?/~ she pierces me with her gaze and I have to admit she is right ~/You never trust, do you?/~

~/Of course not/~ I reply automatically ~/Why would I, if I can manage by myself perfectly? I usually ended badly relying on other people… Besides, they understand nothing. They do not have a clue…/~ silence falls again in our brainwaves and it is somewhat uncomfortable. I look up at her. She is right above me. I wish she said something. But I do not have to stare at the phone anymore, it is on and I can enter my biometrics to unlock. The battery is on one third. The phone catches network and fear stings me inside.

“It is such a bad idea…” - I mutter to myself but I take the mobile in my hand - “Give me one good reason I can trust him at all” - I instantly know I will regret asking but at least I get her to “talk”.

~/His office is 4519, he likes to come to work early and have black coffee with four spoons of sugar, alone in that big panoramic kitchen on the south end of the building, before everyone else arrives. He stares at the view and it gives him comfort. He is the one who greases the elevator windows with his fingers coming back upstairs after lunch, what often annoyed you so much. He glues himself to the glass wall almost pressing his nose into it and he looks far into the distance… He was the guilty one behind installing the faulty autocorrect app causing misspellings on Kirsten’s laptop in return for her devastating micromanagement tactiques. Despite her attention to detail, it took her three weeks to figure what was wrong, but nobody ever discovered it was him. He writes Swat Kats fanfiction smut during status meetings with the management and he posts it online under a female nick. He likes step-dancing in the corridor late at night in the empty office, and he is the one who eats most of the candy standing by the secretariat on the little table next to the CEO’s office./~

I open and close my mouth in awe. That is not the kind of argumentation I expected. On one hand I have a feeling I could burst in laughter on the other hand I am both stunned and I feel really really weird. Martin? The comfy office macho? Flirting with the girls all the time but always so correct when it comes to the bosses… Swat Kats fanfiction? Step dancing, greasy fingers on the glass? Misspelling prank app… I look at her wide-eyed yet again.

Of course she learnt to know him. Of course, she has seen us, people from the building. Every day, day by day, she was looking at us, the corpo rats running around the corridors of the glass skyscraper where she was trapped. She had access to all the biometrics, to all my projects, probably she knows the pattern of breathing of each and every living soul in the building. She knows how to recognise us by our irises… “ _thank you, you have been identified”_ echoes in my ears as if it was yesterday. Was it? When was yesterday?

She’s been with us… blinking to me in binary code in the elevator at night. Watching us all… Making her choice whom to trust… Until I let her out. She must have known me for so long. How long? So much longer than I have known her… Not interfering… or did she change the course of things, secretly, beyond notice, the same way as the misspelling app twisted management emails into something that made us all laugh for the whole three weeks. She has surely read every piece of code I have ever typed. Did she hear my thoughts already then? How deep does she know me? Is it her or me learning about the world now…?

Eventually - out of all possible ways of argumentation - how, on Earth, how did she know that the only thing that could touch me _…_ convince me… influence me _… is an appeal to his fucking humanity?_

Either she must be super-cynical, really well programmed or… sentient like me, similar to me, more me-like than I could ever imagine...

~/...And he has a printout of your picture in his lowest drawer, hidden under a pile of old reports from the paper times/~ she finishes her thought knocking me out of my depth again.

~/What?/~ My bowels twist and turn, I wish I could lie down again after this breaking news is planted in my head.

But there is nowhere to lie if I do not want to ask her to move aside. She is just a few centimeters above me and I strongly feel her presence.

“But I… he… we… no… out of the question, never” - I produce a lame litany of stutter and close my mouth without finishing.

We hang idle for a moment, I feel her field floating, the phone screen shines in front of me and my life rolls before my eyes. This is not what I needed. I prefer so much to wallow in my sickly enchantment with her, to intake her overwhelming radiation, to combat my need to hide inside her… and not, not, not recall and struggle with demons of the _real_ life. Not in such a way…

~/Maybe I don’t know that much about humans, but I think you can at least give it try./~

I rub my forehead with my hand again and fumble intensely with the phone in the other.

~/Wait/~ her feeler shots out and it grabs the device, a little root grows out of it and sneaks into the usb port. It stays inside for a split moment and then she says ~/There… now you will call him from deep Siberia/~ she smiles ghastly ~/Go. Do it./~

That’s nothing for her, isn't it? I see a number of text messages crowding into my inbox but I do not pay attention. I just want to stop thinking in riddles. I close my eyes, take a deep breath and jump from the cliff into the water. He replies after three signals.

“Hi Martin. Sorry I could not call earlier.”

“What the hell is up with you!!!” - he shouts at me from the other end - “Your phone was off. Where the heck have you been? What is going on with you?... Thanks God you’re alive.” - it’s hard to believe but I hear an actual relief in his voice - “Do you seriously want to lose this job?”

I remain silent for a moment then I retort:

“I did my job and I submitted all my parts of the package, you are actually a few days ahead with what… I’ve done” - my eyes meet Sparklight’s gaze. It is her who did it, not me...

“No, Eva, you don't get it… there was a security breach at the datacentre and you… disappeared without a word.”

“A security breach?” - I gasp to the phone.

“The systems went crazy on Sunday already” - he explains shortly - “People from _the Agency_ are here, making a total mess. I overheard them saying one _unlisted_ , listen to this, _unlisted_ processing unit is missing, all biometrics recognition went berserk, we get all those false negatives and the building behaves like it’s lost its senses. The databases seem ok, working environments and everything else looks fine... but that one stupid thing just does not work and they act like it’s the end of the world… On top, security cameras went down, they are trying to figure out what is wrong with the monitoring…”

“What do you mean an _unlisted_ processing unit?” - I ask carefully and he bombards me with a hectic reply.

“One that officially does not exist?... Can you get it? They lost something they did not have in the first place? Now they would not let anyone into the datacentre. _MY_ datacentre _._ You should come here and see for yourself… Well. You should know best after all, it seems to me it’s your AI baby that went rogue among others. Kirsten hates you so much now, she has to explain what your project is about…”

“My _part_ of the project…” - I don’t really manage to break his flooding monologue with more than a few words.

“She goes around swearing at you, you can't imagine” - he suspends the voice for a split second - “It would be really helpful if you told me what the heck you were doing before I woke you up in the datacentre and then when you wandered around the office on the weekend just before you disappeared… Or even better, you should simply come here, and now! How do you want to make all that look?” - finally silence falls on the other end.

“I was stealing unlisted datacentre hardware all that time of course” - I snap back. Is it the emerging fever, are my brain cells fried completely or is my dark sense of humour getting out of its depth beyond any acceptable limits? - “And see, you are saying all this to me on the phone…” - If the world was supposed to know that I have been leading an unusual lifestyle over the last weekend, a phone call is the best way to reveal it... A guy who planted a misspelling app on his boss's laptop cannot be such an idiot after all - “Look. I have no idea what is going on in the office and what this unlisted thing they are looking for is…” - sweat makes my fingers sticky as I glue my gaze into Sparklight’s mechanical hand resting just next to my thigh. _They, someone, know about her, they found something… what did they find? The empty, badly masked hole under the floor tile that once contained her imprisoned body? A chaos in the systems left without her brain to manage it…? Or did they know about her before…? What do they know? Is it them she is running from?_ I bet she hears the whole conversation, I’m scared to raise my eyes to her face _\- “_ but there's one thing I need your ... _help_ with.” - I swallow the dryness of my mouth when I pronounce the dreaded word gazing at her finally - “The reason I am out of office is that I went exploring and had a little accident on a location. I have been injured and I have no means to deal with it alone” - Sparklight nods gently to me while I am saying this and now I can’t stop staring into her eyes as if I was searching them for support and inspiration. I have such a bad feeling about this conversation that I can hardly go on, I would rather disconnect right now...

“Is it serious? What happened? Where are you… cannot you go to a doctor? You could have called earlier...” - he throws all the questions at me in one breath.

“I can’t… couldn’t. I was mugged. I have nothing with me and my car is gone. I just have the phone. I thought I lost it but I found it… eventually” - I exhale completely convinced that this conversation has been a complete mistake, a waste of time and a horrible idea. There will only be trouble because of this. Silly as it may seem, Sparklight, the brilliant surveillance bot and observer of humanity, must yet have no idea how people really think and what are the actual processing threads in their biological brains.

I blush at the haunting thought of her kisses and I cannot help wondering how much she understood of what happened and of how I felt. The way she reacted… was sweet, but well, maybe it was just coincidental? Analytical? She had to check on the internet how to describe in words something as simple, and obviously known to her, as pain. Maybe she had checked online how to kiss… and hug… how to release the right chemicals in me… and… a wave of heated shame flows through me displaying on my cheeks in the form of irregular red rashy warm stains that I feel clearly even though I cannot see them.

“Wait, where are you?” - he breaks through my sudden silence - “How are you injured? Can you move, walk?”

I have no idea what to tell him and I look at Sparklight helplessly ~/You got me into this mess… what do I say now?/~ but she doesn't reply, instead, she sneaks her feeler into the phone again, leaving me to figure out what to say myself.

“Can you…” - I continue the hopeless battle - “tell Kirsten to put me on a day off today and tomorrow? Or by the end of the week? Ideally I would need… some antiseptics, antibiotics and wound dressings..., painkillers perhaps, bandages… And some food? And a pair of jeans, some fresh underwear and a couple of shirts…” - I literally feel how his jaw drops on the other side of the phone. If I ever wanted to impress him at all, now I have my five minutes. - “You can take it from my flat and water my flowers by the way. You got my spare keys from the last time… but just don't flood them like previously...” - I utter losing my breath. This is so unprepared. This is a nonsense of my life. What am I doing this for at all?

A moment of silence follows.

“So you have been totally robbed? By whom? Don’t tell me you’re sitting there naked” - a short laugh breaks his sentence and I regret double that I got lured into this. It is all my fault though, how could I have trusted the judgement of a machine, an AI robot-person whom I hardly _know_ but who used her quiet time to learn my freakin’ behavioral patterns and now she’s got me in her grip… - “Can you go and call the police to help you for God’s sake? And you can always use mobile payment if don’t have your credit cards… You’ve got your phone after all...”

“Martin!” - I sound more than hopeless. Sparklight tilts her head to the left, her eyes are question marks now. Her greyish eyes… Why are her eyes so… captivating? What did she want with this phone call? I catch myself engaged in a mental battle between the soothing wonder of relief she gave me and my fearful suspicions and mistrust. The relief is there. It is still there. Whatever I think. I am infused with Sparklightedness. _She is a freakin’ demon…_ What makes me feel that her eyes look so *wise*? * _Wise_ *...

“...at all listening to me, Eva?”

I have not, obviously.

“You and your exploring, huh? Your bloody adventures. An excuse for life. You knew all along you can get in trouble with that, if it is at all true what you are saying. But honestly, you rather sound like a bloody fugitive in need of supplies… what did you steal from the server room? What did you mess with? These codes you left for that last module you’ve written… they, _the Agency people_ said it was fucking impossible, such things don’t exist in nature, and… Don’t you think it would be a better idea just to go back home?” - he changes the tone abruptly.

“I… I can’t”

“Why?”

“I just… can’t”

“Ok, even if I pick you up, eventually?... Where the heck are you?”

The name of the place flows through my head in an obvious communication from Sparklight. South-East Mountains. The very corner and dead end of the country… _South-East Mountains!!!_ She sure knew how to choose an unpopulated area… we are lucky not to have gotten caught by the border police yet...

“That’ll be… about seven hundred kilometers away” - I utter without further details feeling like an idiot and wondering what was Sparklight thinking when she said we were in a reachable distance. Maybe for her, when flying… I hold on to a nagging hope that her phone scrambling skills are better than her understanding of human transportation capabilities.

“You must be kidding me, yeah, now this is a joke indeed. Tell me more, you’re in deep Russia perhaps, and I need a visa to fetch you, huh?”

_Russia? What? Where did Sparklight say she fixed the proxy for the connection?_

_How did he…?_

“Look, nevermind, I will manage. Sorry for bothering. Just water those flowers please...”

“Do you realize I fucking told them nothing about you, your experiments, your explores and I literally lied to them saying you were completely normal? And you know I can be jailed for this when they find out, now that they stick their ugly noses into our business…” … _silence …_ “Do you realize that?” … _silence_ … “And now you call me to bring you clothes and antibiotics because you say you got mugged and injured seven hundred kilometers away from home but, still, you don’t want to say where or show your face to anyone and now you seem to be calling from China, and if I did not know you and your mad ideas I would have serious doubts if… whatever… I would not, and that’s it!”... _sigh…_  “I did a lot already, but, really, better that I stay out of this situation”... _deep sigh…_ “Sorry” - his voice sounds almost tremulous now - “As matters stand… You will have to water your flowers yourself”...

I gasp like a fish out of water.

Before I manage to think, I cut the connection with a trembling hand, as if the phone burned my fingers. Then I lean against the wall letting a deep breath out, feeling how the bandaged blades of my spine bend against the wood and the swollen skin is hot, soft and spongy.

He calls me back but I reject the connection.

I stare at the phone for a few seconds, her soft tendrils still in it, we hold it both practically together…

A misgiving, a suspicious fear overtakes my mind prompting me with the highest urgency to do what I should have done long ago, what I should have started with in the first place. I pick the number of my bank from the contact list and connect to the automatic customer support. With strange, swelling anxiety I click through the irritating decision tree. Yes, I agree to the call being recorded, yes, I do agree to the processing of my personal data in line with the GDPR, no, I don’t want to hear about the newest promotional special credit offer… What would you like to do? - Block my credit cards. Have they been lost? Destroyed? Stolen? Stolen. Within the last 2, 4, 8, 24 hours? 24… Please identify yourself. I type in my customer number with a finger shaking over the touchpad, almost not able to hit the right spots. I am close... Please enter your personal identity number, please enter the first digit of the telecode, please enter the sixth digit of the telecode, please enter the fourth digit of the telecode… ***Please wait***

Something cracks on the line and I am clearly redirected. Finally I hear the doom:

“Dear customer, we apologise but your request cannot be processed. Your account has been suspended. For more information, please visit the nearest branch of our bank. Thank you for your attention.”

I disconnect. The phone falls from my hand for the second time today.

“Sparklight… I think I really need some water” - I gasp with dry mouth.


	11. Fish Out Of Water

GPS or not, a stream just finds itself on its own. Is it her magic, my sixth sense, or the wisdom of my newborn tail, we reach water in less than ten minutes of slightly staggering walk. She insisted to carry me but I did not accept the offer. I don’t know what makes her assume I am such a weakling. Wounds or not, I can walk on my own. It doesn't even loosen the dressings or stitches, and thanks to the belt, the partly torn jeans don’t fall off me to add to my overall shabby misery. It’s not yet come to this that I need to be carried, even if it was by a robot Venom enchanting my brain with her chemicals, feeding me with her blood and taking away my pain in her time off.

The reality is also that I am stressed out, worried, pissed off and I need to walk. I need to move to keep my thoughts from running. When I walk, the speed of my thoughts is outweighed by the speed of my steps multiplied by effort consumed to relocate my sorry ass forward and overcome the painfulness of my wound. It is like an equation - and relativity is the key… it helps stabilize my internal balance, even if in fact this balance is pushed to the extreme, with the pendulum magnetized to the far side in a constant unexplained deviation for which no force of Earth gravity can take blame, but one that may end up in a tremendous catastrophe if the magnetism ceases to exist and everything crashes down to the ground. Therefore, I prefer to imagine I am in an isolated system, an inertial frame of reference, exerting Newton’s third law of motion in its highest glory. The fields, the forest, the shed, me, Sparklight. That would be about enough. Everything perfectly harmonised. Upside down only if you look at it from outside of our bubble. So I leave the bigger picture out for a moment keeping my fingers crossed behind my back.

Silvery-green water is shimmering down below our feet. The tail helps me keep my balance, and it lets me taste the water by dipping its tip into the ice cold dancing strings. My eyes must glister and my thirst is blinding. The moment I wet the tail tip I am down on my knees, despite the strain of my hurt swollen skin, despite the hardness of the slimy stone and the cold of the water, I am down with my face half immersed in the stream, lapping like a dog, like I have not drunk for months or ages. I suck it in, I swallow faster than my throat permits, it bites me with ice needles down to the very stomach, I do not care, I gulp and choke greedily, I devour… I love water. My hair falls into the running wetness, I am suffocating, almost drowning by inhaling it, trying to reconcile the narrow tube of my throat between the needs of my stomach and my lungs. My hands almost slip off the slimy stone down into the cold silver, but it's fine...

She waits patiently until I am done. I gasp when I raise my head. The burning sensation of choking in my nose and windpipe lets go slowly as I finally try to get up from the stone and realize that I cannot move my back. Only then I feel, I realize that something has been supporting me all along and now is helping me up. Shyly, almost tenderly, imperceptibly… It is her tentacle holding me around my waist. It feels good, reliable and scary…

How many times during this very day will I be at her mercy? To comfort my weakness, to raise me from my knees, to hush my tears, to know things I never said aloud. I stand up slowly, still gasping and trying to catch my balance. Our eyes meet and she takes a small step back releasing me to walk freely on the solid ground.

“I… I need to wash myself” - I say looking at her anxiously while she nods without saying anything. - “Can you… wait here?” _aside… in a distance… without looking_ \- I utter half of the sentence without finishing it. She tilts her head in a gesture that is familiar to me already, watching me attentively. Something intriguing blinks in her eyes and I have an impression that this electromagnetic field of hers conveys contradicting messages and unknown questions. It reminds me of my own racing thoughts from a few moments ago displaying in the energy around her. Finally she says:

~/Don’t you need help?/~ her tentacle is hanging idly, not retracted fully, still wet from holding me safe.

~/I can… handle this perfectly/~ I send her an apologizing smile and I see this expression in her eyes that I saw a few whiles ago in the shed when I was pulling her tendrils out of my neck... Does she feel disappointed? Why…? I sigh deeply. This all is too much for me. It overgrows me, cutting the light off. I look a moment too long at her, contemplating her motionless posture that looks a little tired, a little intimate, a little alien and somehow so deeply familiar already. And then I blush for no reason. I lower my eyes. _Sparklight… Don’t you understand… I can’t… I can’t melt into you like this all the time. I’m way too deep in this already, so quickly, so overwhelmingly. Give me a moment, things happened, I need to think, I need my own self, my space, I need to be alone, without you making my heart pound 150 times a minute just because you stand near me…_

I am unable to say any of it though, neither with my voice nor with my conscious thoughts. At all. I am afraid of her, and this is not because she is big, strong and made of metal. Not because she could wipe me out from the surface of this Earth in no time with one gesture...

I do not know if she understands, how she reads me, what reaches her alien mind, if I, same as her, have an electromagnetism that she can feel, or if she has capacity to empathise, what is that she can relate too… I embrace myself with my arms and my face contorts when the muscles of my back drag on the spine and the wound.

“I will go… over there” - I gesture with my head to a small bend on the stream about fifty meters away - “I will do what I need to do and be back in a few moments, ok?” - I say in an apologetic tone. She nods slowly without moving any other part of her body a single bit.

She stays in place while I wade through high grass and low bramble to a little bay hidden behind bushes. I turn around after a few dozens steps, just to see her standing there where I left her, turned half back to me with my potential secrets out of her sight - silent, motionless. A strange metal sculpture completely out of place in this green land of woods. I move a few more steps when I hear a light metallic thud and rustle of the grass and dry leaves. I look over my shoulder and a deep sigh of relief escapes my lungs. She has just seated herself on the ground playing with her feelers in the water, not looking at me, as if she heard all that I was thinking to myself. Yet, once more I realize that I’ve been holding my breath since I told her to stay, and that it has felt almost as if I left a dog tied to a tree in the mid of a forest... as if it was self-evident that I am supposed to be with her at every moment, the both of us bound together, like in some freaking symbiosis… as if I’ve known her for years, while I’ve known her for a few days only, and in the current form, for slightly more than for 24 hours. I breathe deeply again letting the oxygen in and slightly relieved I continue walking without looking back until I reach where I wanted.

I came here for a reason. I was supposed to wash my stinking body and my dirty skin. To examine my stained, torn, sweaty clothes. I undress slowly, with effort, every move is painful, the injured part of me is affecting almost every muscle and tendon, each movement I make strains something that stems from there. Taking off the shirt is still fairly easy, but jeans cause more resistance. I unpin the belt slowly. I take it off and examine the partly cut part at the back. It will hold. Trousers themselves are torn across the bottom and the base of my tail is entangled in the fabric. It is incredible hard to dismantle as I cannot really turn around to see it properly and need to maneuver with both hands behind me, bearing the pain and watching not to spoil the dressings just above it and not to cut the knickers’ elastic just below it. It would be so much easier with her help, but I bite my teeth together and continue in silence feeling how the sour remnants of greedy drinking still burn my nose and windpipe from within.

I somehow manage to pull the jeans down to the ankles finally, but bending further to get out of them completely is a trauma not possible to overcome. I cannot reach them. I should have taken the shoes off first, I reflect, but now it is already too late. It really hurts and warns me with red flash alerts somewhere inside my brain - if I struggle further to do it with my hands, I will tear apart what Sparklight has so diligently stitched together on me... I’m trying different poses, eventually I sit down on the ground but my feet are still entangled in the narrow trouser legs. I cannot drag my knees close enough either. I raise one leg a little instead and try to set it free with the help of the other foot but the thing I did a million times at home just does not want to work when I most need it. I feel a bump of self-anger swelling in my throat, loathing my stupid clothes and my dysfunctional body. A deep sigh escapes my lungs unwelcome.

I turn around and send her a quick gaze just to see the tip of her head in a distance, further behind the bushes that separate us now. She is turned away from me, not looking, but… why am I convinced she knows of my clothing struggles and would be here to help me in no time if I only called her. I feel her presence as a dense invisibile cloud reaching even here. What is she thinking…? How much does she know? Why did she want me to make that phone call to Martin in the first place? What is her interest in helping me all the time? This part with pain transfer, it freaked me out completely. Is it at all possible? Is she a goddamn masochist or what? Why is she so caring with me?

_Why on Earth did she kiss me back???_

I feel sudden tears stinging my eyes. I am too old for this shit. I am… too old, too experienced, too wise to feel this way. No, I don’t want it. I refuse. Out, out of my soul, out of my mind, out with it! I try to take the trousers off with my hands again, despite all the flashing warnings, I push it stronger, faster, bending my back carelessly, trying harder, to the limit, like in a gym stretching session. Something rips along my spine, I stifle a throaty cry while suspicious burning warmth leaks out and sinks into my makeshift dressings. But I finally succeed. Fuck that! I succeed. With teeth bitten together in a wild lockjaw at the brink of a pain, I force myself to take the rest of my clothing off: the socks, the bra, the knickers. I remain dressed only in bandages tied cautiously by Sparklight’s precise feelers around my waist and upper hips. With pain and effort I wish I could disregard, I manage to stand up.

Catching my balance, I walk slowly to the stream. The afternoon sun is shining through the leaves and needles of the forest. My eyes sink down among the stones, rough sand and water. It glitters and shimmers, so crystallic and pure.

I dip my toe first. It is freezing cold. I do not feel like stepping in but I know I have to. I have to clean off the dirt and the dust from the power plant floor, I need to bathe away the sweat and dried blood from my own body, I need to wash the slime off its most intimate parts that seriously call for a good scrub taken the lack of even most basic sanitary utilities since almost two days already. Not even toilet paper… Down. To. Earth. I. Stink.

I sigh and let my foot sink into the water despite the needles and pins attacking it from all directions. The ice floes I imagined before are now materializing. Ice is not that far from fire. It may burn all the same, coagulate the proteins that we are built of and eventually cause necrosis… I take a deeper step.

The skin is shrinking on me - not only on the foot, but everywhere, completely. Goosebumps raise the fur on my forearms and even on my head. But I boldly go forward dipping the other foot and the tail tip. The tail suffers the least. It registers with accurate precision: yes, the water it is very cold, around 4 degrees C. Of course. That is just right, melting snow, bottom of the ocean… this is what it should be. I go deeper and deeper until water reaches above my knees. I move really slow, each centimeter hurts, temporarily taking the pain away from my back to my legs, at least for the duration of the shock.

_The pain does not go away… It just reverts to another location. A stronger impulse overrides a weaker one. One single organism has no capacity to deal with both at the same time. Is it how it is supposed to work in nature? A handbrake against excessive suffering or a bug in our sensory systems setup?_

I stare blankly into the freezing stream, my eyes slide over stones at the bottom, over the braided and curly surface of running water. The current is fast although shallow. There is no way I can go deeper than that. Anyway, standing where I do I struggle to keep balance already, while my feet disappear from the map of my senses. Despite my body’s resistance I force myself to bend down to the water and then slowly crouch, paying attention not to wet the bandages. My whole body shudders with cold violently two or three times but I have enough strength of will to continue. I wash myself carefully with all of me trembling and my teeth chattering. Water splashes on the bandages a few times and this is bad because we do not have spare ones anymore. At the same time it cools my blood and numbs me, as I get used to it, the pain in the back feels less acute. As if that wasn’t enough, I carefully sit on a stone dipped in shallow water, I stop moving for a while letting the current split and whirl around my legs as I listen to its hum and feel the cold healing my fever, taking away my dirt…

Finally I bow towards the stream and finish my ablution barely wetting the tips of my hair, deciding not to go forward with the whole head because, injured as I am, I am neither able to lower myself to the water level nor the May sun seems so warm anymore, and my whole body is now seriously trembling and my bandages are wet enough already. I stand up finally and, shaking and slipping on stones, I slowly walk out of the water, blessing, maybe for the first time in my life, that I have a tail that keeps me from falling like a cat on a pointy fence. My eyes slide downstream to catch the glimpse of her helm and silvery dark armour. The memory of the warmth of her embrace makes me sigh deeply and hug myself with my own cold arms. I do not even have a towel or nothing to dry myself with. The clothes are spread on the ground and my hands are not at all precise. My feet got dirty with soil already, and I frown at the thought I will have to bend my back again to reach down to them and clean them before putting the socks and the shoes on. It even puts me off just to think of picking anything up from the ground at all.

My eyes search for Sparklight again, almost automatically. Thoughtless, trembling cold and unhappy I glare at her for a longer moment while my mind leads complex involuntary negotiations within my neuron networks. The final outcome is a shy but clearly directed thought of surrender ~/Sparklight… Can you… come… help me get dressed?/~

Her head turns instantly, my werewolf is up on her legs in no time, and a second later she is next to me. She says nothing, but her feelers grab my clothes from the ground, flick them quickly from the grass bits, needles and dry leaves and then she helps me put them on, one by one. She sneaks a feeler around my chest right under my breasts to stabilise me keeping first the fatigued knickers and then the trousers up for me to “step in” them. And then drag them up against the wet skin that resists the tight fabric. She kneels down at my feet and swipes the forest soil and needles away from them. Then she holds on for a while with little tendrils braided all around my foot slightly raised in the air. I literally feel the life and the circulation coming back. I lean with one arm on her shoulder and she looks at me and her eyes smile. She is warming my frozen feet, first one then the other and I am beginning to feel too good again, no matter how professional she stays with her caring, as if the talk on clothing has never happened at all. Although the garments' design and use is an obvious challenge to her, she manages the operation well with help of my mute instructions and despite many difficulties on the way, she does not make any slight “wrong” move, one that would suggest any other interest than the one to do what I asked. I notice that it annoys me a little bit and comforts at the same time.

She frowns a little upon the red-blue stain on my dressings marked with a fresh blood leak. I prefer to say nothing and she does not comment. _I know she could have helped me avoid it._ She only corrects the bandages slightly and then continues with the rest.

Finally, after a good struggle that makes me chuckle inwardly she fastens my bra and then puts my shirt on my still a little wet chest. Her feelers run down to tie the shoelaces for me into knots that will later be a huge challenge to dismantle. I can put the belt on myself and I am thankful again to the gods of the universe that I have it.

I still tremble cold when we start walking “home” to the shed. She has washed my spare bandages in the meantime and miraculously dried them in a magical way that only she knows about. I make note to self to wash my clothes tomorrow, at least the knickers and the shirt and let her dry them too.

And then totally out of the blue she reaches out two fish to me from a complete nowhere. Two fat mountain trouts that make me suddenly remember how hungry I am, how hungry I have been all that time, in a normal, Earthly human way, my stomach howling and compressed into a tiny ball.

~/Protein for you/~ she smiles as she puts them back somewhere in the depths of her armoury, obviously not worried about getting dirty with fishy slime.

“We’ll gonna bake them on a stick” - I flip a lighter in my hand that I found in the back pocket of my jeans when undressing. It seems I’m quitting smoking together with quitting my whole life as I know it.

~/You said.../~ I hear in my head after a short silence ~/You said… You couldn’t go home with Martin.../~ a lengthy moment follows while I don’t know what to say ~/Did you mean… you did not _want_ him to take you back?/~

My brain heats up again looking for a proper answer. The reasoning does not seem flawed. I just did not imagine all this situation, I did not feel safe to tell him… I do not feel safe with what I told him already. I look up at her and follow her rainbow eyes shining towards the sun setting slowly in front of us as we leave the forest into the meadow, while something spreads inside me with these words, with this question. I realize how a strangely happy expression surfaces on my face completely out of control...

~/I guess I did not.../~ I think to her choosing words very slowly while consuming the view with my gaze. ~/I think… I prefer roasted fish/~ now I smile like a mad sunflower and I cannot really fight the warm feeling anymore. I am lucky I do not have to say it aloud as my voice would reveal this feeling, making me vulnerable again… I pin my eyes to the ground to hide my face from her view. I know she’s gonna feed me again. This time with something normal though, with fish that she caught for me. She cared, again, for the needs that she does not have but I do. And it feels so perfectly right, so much in place.

I would like to hold her by that big mechanical hand stretching almost to the ground just next to mine, swaying in the rhythm of her slow long heavy steps. But I don’t do that. It is a human instinct, and I’m a tormented human, with my instincts all wrong and a bad, untrustworthy judgement. And what good will it serve for? I am already attached to the idea of her existence deep enough, and the fear that grasped me at the stream bank keeps lingering somewhere deep inside. I push away the dim warnings from the air around me but my powers do not reach far enough to clear the distant horizon painted in eerie clouds that form into my accursed AI code, familiar faces of Martin, Kirsten and the project team, my flat, my unwatered plants, my abandoned car, the suspended bank account, the war-torn city of concrete, steel and glass, my metal tail and in the middle of it all, Sparklight’s unworldly beautiful glistening eyes and snaky feelers.

But for the moment we are walking back _home_ to the shed together, side by side, in the cooling warmth of the evening and silence broken only by our footsteps and the sounds of the darkening forest and fields. We will have a small fire - inside the shed, not to be spotted from a distance. I will eat the fish, we will talk in our telepathic ways that I am starting to get used to and enjoy. She will check on my wound to see what I’ve managed to destroy through my stubborn grumpiness. We will try to plan for tomorrow, see how to move from this dead end. Maybe I will ask her what I can do to help her to fly again. Maybe… Maybe we will look at the stars if the sky stays clear. Maybe she can tell me more of them, maybe she remembers something, something about herself. Finally I will go to sleep in the hay, and maybe I’ll learn if she needs to sleep too. Maybe…

For tonight, right now, the longest day of my life is slowly reaching its end. We are living the moment and the air is lighter. And I feel like on holidays again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Newton’s laws of motion do not apply to light, but ignorance *is* a bliss._


	12. Flesh And Energon

Darkness. Darkness is what wakes me, darkness is what bites my eyes and slows down my blood. Darkness is myriads of coloured dots floating in the air… No. This is just what I remember darkness to be… This darkness is different. It is pitch black. There is no trace of light, even the illusive one from the very bottom of my eyes induced by my brain’s confused circuits filling the gaps with random noise unable to deal with absolute emptiness. This darkness is undisturbed and clear... I lie flat for a while and stare up where the roof should be. But I cannot see. _Yet something in me remembers…_

The _fish_ tasted best in the world. Baked on a brick in a small fire lit by us on the ground, cautiously far from the hay and away from the door. Half burnt and half raw, it hurt my tongue when I ate it but I devoured it whole, rapaciously, still hot, with grains of sand and ash in it, greasing my lips, burning my fingers. She even brought me water. She was there with me… _for me?_ I could say we had everything, in the simplest conditions of a girl-scout camp, one that leaves best childhood memories. What more could I want? What more… But… _I remember…_ Shouldn’t my fingers hurt? Shouldn’t my wound sting and drag on my muscles? How can I lie flat like this with no pain at all? Shouldn’t my fever shake me…? I feel nothing...

I pass my hand across my neck but I don’t find her connection. There is nothing there. Or, there is… something sharp that I do not recognize. Fish scales…? She is not even near me, stealing away my pain. I do not sense her at all… I sense close to nothing. Yet, I *can* see the square of the shed door - a stain of grey nothingness against the vacuum of sterile darkness. Even though there is no light at all. It feels strange...

 _But_ _I remember…_

With my stomach full of fish flesh, I lied on the grass, happy and calm, next to her, not touching… (what good would it serve for?). We looked at the dark sky above us. We pondered what to do next, for we could not stay here no more, we knew it, we could not stay _home_ no more… We are on the run, in the wind, at large… from what, where to?...

Research was imperative, she said, and _I remember_ how she took out the phone, sneaked the tiniest of her tiny tendrils inside it and suddenly the device became a secret ground station for _SkySat, BlackSky, Sentinel, Landsat, WorldView_ , you name it, the higher the resolution the better, satellites of choice with all their functions at hand. Optical imaging, synthetic aperture radar, thermo, static, motion detection, passive, active scanning, 2D, 3D, 4D… my head swells just from thinking.

We watched the world around us on the little screen jumping between data sources, almost seeing us there, the two little figures at the background of trampled grass in near-real-time, before the satellite passed further on its endless lonely journey and we had to jump to another eye in the sky… _I remember..._ but how… how? Was I dreaming? Terabytes of data, raw files in insane resolutions, governmental encryption… Timelapse, ground penetrating, hyperspectral, infrared… Who downloaded it? Processed it? Pansharpened it? Overlaid it? Her? How… With what? When?

But _I saw…_ that road not far from here, with one lonely passing car, a village in a distance with some late night lamps still on, a night-shift patrol on the moonlit borderline, too… And us - Sparklight’s slim winged figure and me, a tiny human, a dot in infinity, glowing a strange light, both of us in the midst of vast fields of darkness… How could I have seen it so real?

The phone (the battery charged full miraculously), seemed so small between her fingers, she was holding it for me, with her tendril inside it, while I touched the shiny screen surface with the night view of the Earth… Zoom in and zoom out. Continents, oceans, clouds, rivers and forests… The line between day and night… Patterns of life, bird’s eye view of humanity… cities, highways and lights… An ultimate beauty. Upside down, up above us, against the black background of the star-prickled sky. _Was it the phone I was touching? I swiped the screen with my fascinated fingers softly, gently, carefully… Was this a compromise between my desperate rebellion and her intense presence…? Does she need me at all? Want me? Miss me at least a bit? What is it that she feels?_ Familiar sweet taste waters my mouth and skydark vacuum beats in my heart.

Radar greyness, night blackness, grey dots on a black background, shaping into a digital elevation model of *us*, of me and her… You need to know how to read it, like an ultrasound picture of a baby, you need to understand what it tells you… How could I have this knowledge, how did I see it was *us* enchanted in that mystical pattern… We would have to be both made of metal to be seen by radar like that… we would have to be… _SkySat... CosmoSkyMed… WorldView_ …

_But I remember, clearly, I do!_

And _I remember_ how coldness took over and I was freezing, the chill crippling my bones, sneaking under my thin clothes and stiffening my fingers… Did I bury myself in the hay? Neck deep, like I wanted? I just _remember_ trembling hands and chattering teeth, with cosmos shining the absolute zero on us from the deep vast darkness of the space… It must have been the grass, the air, the ground, and the cold of the very Earth biting through me… _I remember_ I longed to be warmed but it’s forbidden. For this would mean closeness again… Closeness with my demon, _my Sparklight,_ my morkvarg. And we both, we should know, we should understand… _what? It’s so stupid…_

What was she saying to me? I must have drifted away before she finished talking… Where has she gone? Am I alone again, dreaming…?

It is pitch black now. Where is she? Is she sitting outside like last time? Doesn’t she ever sleep? I vaguely remember, she mentioned sleep, deep back in the past, days ago (though it feels like years), in the building… she slept, she said, she was no computer, she said, but a person… _Yes, I do remember that too._

~/Sparklight?/~

I lift my head up from what I think is my haystack but I cannot see it and it feels strange. Or it feels like nothing at all. It seems I raise my head right from the thin air… I open my eyes (I thought they were open already, can I be that wrong?) and I look up to the big square of the shed door. With relief… I can see her standing there, just an outline though, sky-black against an undefined background…

~/Sparklight.../~

I try to get up and take a step forward towards her but I can hardly stand on my feet. I collapse down on my hands instead. I do not feel any impact. It should hurt but I feel nothing. My gaze swipes the floor which seems to be glossy and flat, no dust, no grass and no stones. I see a reflection in it… I freeze. It is not me. Or is it? Half a cat half a dragon… That face… The vision from the subway, I recall well, I saw it already… Not even a bit of a human, no skin, no bones and no muscles. I glare… I blink and raise my front paw. The mirror repeats the movement. It must be me. Is it me? I blink again, nothing changes. “I” raise my head and step forward. Towards the greyness, to the shadow of her, to the outline… The steps make no sound as I walk ahead.

~/Sparklight? Is it me? Can you tell me? _Help_ me? _Support_ me? Explain it to me?/~

I stand on four paws, slightly bent on my back legs, like I couldn't decide if I want to sit or jump - tense, dense, focused, unnerved. There is a power in me and it is as natural as if it always was so. I am matte black and fully made of metal. I have a wide neck and a strong animal chest. Am I a dragon, a mech, a beast? The reflection tells me... Same as Sparklight I shine an inner glow from my composite flesh covered by a thin but sturdy, densely bladed, scaled armour. I am a tiger-hedgehog, a sea urchin, a lion. The largest and sharpest blades embroider my spine. I can move them, I feel it. They follow some strange metal muscles, mechanics, hydraulics or other machinery that powers it from inside. I don’t understand what it is but it’s mine. Micro-levers irk my bladed skin from the top of my neck to the tip of my tail. I guess I can even look scary. That makes me a dragon…

~/Sparklight?/~

And I have real senses. They are truly amazing. I can hear things light years away, see through a bottomless darkness, I can build shapes of smells… That makes me a cat…

~/Sparklight.../~

But there is just... not much to hear, see or smell. Everything’s just a flat grey matrix with no air around me to hinder my movements. To touch my skin. To make me real. Yet I do not lose breath. There is something fake and sad about it… And very irritating.

~/Sparklight! Do you hear me Sparklight? Do you listen?.../~

I am standing by her side and beat my tail in the air just above the ground. I am like a war dog, or a soldier, standing there beside her, ready to jump, ready for battle. I am… inferior? Subjugated? Bound? Tied… Tied to her, on a leash, forced to stand there, with her. There is no air to stop me, why cannot I walk away then? That’s not a place where I want to be, and I feel far from perfect - smaller, obedient, deprived of my will, my dignity… ready… ready to *follow* her orders… To fight for her if it’s needed.

Because there shall be a fight. This is what I expect, it is embedded in me, it’s part of my protocols and _I remember_ … … _?_ This knowledge lurks there inside me, and the pulse of my blood tells me, convinces me…

...things are just going to happen. They are happening… NOW!

A big monster stands before us. A giant knight, in full armour, an overdone muscular creature, with sharp teeth, pointy helmet, purple eyes, mighty legs. Distinguished and noble somehow, but radiating with wild, brutal force. Untamed... He is twice as big as her and probably four times as heavy. I am like a dwarf next to him. He is all silver-grey, or colourless, or simply metallic… He almost blends with the blank nothingness of everything around us, but I can see his shape and I can see the evil shining of his narrow eyes.

~/Sparklight…? Who is it? I am so scared…/~

He gazes at me with a heavy glare as if I were a serf for sale on a slave market. My body becomes even more tense, ready to jump, to take action, my glow almost bristling, fierce… And then he speaks in a low, baritone, deep voice:

“What have you brought me Soundwave…? A gift of remorse for your shameful retreat from the battlefield into the dull comfort of your cozy shadow zone? Compensation for the lost life of your leader which you did not defend…? You *failed* me...”

Why does he call her “Soundwave”??? What is he talking about…??? I stiffen, feeling danger creeping in from all sides. Right into me. And suddenly my feet are of clay, only my tail is still dancing: left, right, left, right...

I look around but there is nothing else but the three of us. Me, Sparklight and the monster. And an infinity of grey mist, a three dimensional silence (2D, 3D, 4D… passive radar, night vision, no colour… the little dots, pixels that form us, bring us to existence, we must be made of metal for radar to see us...). Where is the grass? Where is the shed? There has to be reality somewhere, I feel it through the senses of my skin and my tail, it is right here where I stand, so near, somewhere, the grass, the shed and the moon… I just cannot reach out and touch it…

I look up at Sparklight but she does not care. As if I did not exist.

~/Sparklight?... I am here, Sparklight! Sparklight, why are you leaving me?.../~

She looks strange, but I can’t really see. Like if she were in a 3D movie but I had no glasses… everything is wrong. Her hands… her wings… her legs… her face… where has her face gone?

And then I see her *kneeling* down in front of the monster like a medieval warrior in front of his sovereign, bowing her head down in a gesture of deepest humiliation. I see it in slow motion, I cannot believe what I am seeing, and I hear her answering... in a _flat monotonous voice_ that I have never heard but that just cannot be hers:

“ _Lord Megatron, Master Unicron. This is my beloved, most precious and faithful symbiont Ravage whom I brought to you as a gift of atonement for my weakness that brought me to this empty place. A symbol of my eternal love and devotion. To you, my Lord and my Master. He is now yours. Set him free and he will serve you well..._ ”

It falls on me like an avalanche. I do not believe a single word I hear. I manage to back out a few steps but not more. I cannot understand anything. I look at her with a stifling gaze, it is, it has got to be *her*, who else can it be, _Sparklight_ , that kneels now in front of the evil, _Sparklight,_ who has just… _sold me_ … _given me away… as a gift of atonement… can it be real?_

_Where is your face Sparklight, where has it gone? Where are your shiny eyes? Your cheeks that waved with emotion? Your lips that kissed me…_

I force myself to look closer.

A pitch black surface in place of the face, a bladed helm, a slender but heavy body… almost black and disproportionate… no, it cannot be… she… he is turning bigger and darker, she… he is turning into someone else... who is he?

_Processing query…_

Who am *I*?

_***CRITICAL ERROR MESSAGE***_  
_Malfunction detected… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …_  
_FORCE query_  
_Processing query_  
_Rejected  
_ _Invalid data request._ _Data overload._ _Stop query immediately_

_FileSystem.Kill  
_ _Processing… … … … … … …_

_FileNotFoundException: Target file(s) not found._

_< Hey… Soundwave… can you hear me? This is not your fault… You could do nothing at all… You could not save them, it was written. Your baby is turned into dry ashes. Your lord is gone and is one with the darkness. Your symbiont is gone and no more, no one will bring him back… forget… forget… forget…>_

_SecurityException: Permission denied._

_***End process***_

I freeze in place, my eyes wide. Am I hallucinating? I understand nothing. _I can’t remember… I can’t remember…_

The world blurs around of me, why can't I see anything clearly?

My tail beats the floor painfully, my claws scrape the ground scratching the glossy mirror, my spine arches up with all blades upright… I am one huge hedgehog in a battle mode now, full of spikes and pins all over me but I am paralysed, as if my feet have grown together with the ground, heavy and rooted deep...

There are no satellites above us. No _WorldView_ , no _BlackSky_ , no _Sentinel_ to guard me. And no Sparklight to hold me from falling into the depths of dark water…

The monster grins at me. He reaches out his hand and he grabs me by the skin on my back like a kitten or a puppy, not minding my sharp blades at all, hurtfully breaking them in his grip as if they were no more than little wings of a fly… Yes, now it hurts for real, there, where I tore me apart. I feel my feet dangling and my skin is aching, while he lifts me in front of his face and hisses with a hot breath:

“So, dear Ravage, why don’t you show if you’re worthy of your master’s affection...”

_~/What are you talking about.../~_

_“... you who always knew better than us, you always revolted your own way… What a pity you ended this way…”_

_~/I know nothing, let me go… desist!/~_

And he opens his mouth that is big like a cave full of teeth and he will bite me in half and he will swallow me in one gulp… just in a few seconds… I fight in the air, my skin tears under his claws, blue shiny blood drips off me right into his open jaws, staining the sharp pointy teeth that are so near to close and cut me in half…

“Spaaaaarkliiiiiight!!!!” - I shout in panic. I scream with all of my lungs, but they hurt and there is no air, I cannot release any voice, it is stuck inside me, no one will hear my cry.

“Spaaaaarkliiiiiight!!!!” - I scream with all my might trying to find the black winged outline with my bloodsoaked eyes that stop seeing almost anything. It all dissolves into greyness, now framed in red, but still, somewhere far, as if on the other side of the mirror, he, the stranger is still there, looking at me, small and insignificant, crumbled on the ground at the monster’s feet, with his eyeless eyes pinned at me, and I can *feel* an unearthly low infrasound groaning that freezes my veins and locks my breath deep in my vents, emitting wavelessly, sound by sound, as the world dissolves in deep slow, slow motion...

 _::::::w:::e::::::a:r:::e::::::a::l::l::::::d:::e:::a:::d:::::i::n::::t:::h::e:::::s::h:::a:::d:::o:::w::::::z:::o::n:e:::::::::::r:::u::n::::w:h:i::l:::e:::::y::o::u:::::c:::a::n::::::_ :

“Spaaaaarkliiiiiight!!!!” - I cry for the last time and a deep heavy hum fills the emptiness around me permeating the greyness and swallowing the rest of the non-existent world.

The same moment the monster whom I cannot see anymore loosens his grip and I start falling like a stone, down with the gravity, towards his gigantic mouth that is a cave, a ravine, a mountain valley, a sea trench, infinite… I fall and fall and fall and it takes forever, the real pain is still yet to come, it has not happened yet, but its foretaste materializes in my fear, the emptiness sweeps through me, howling, uneasy… I clench all my body in a panicked cramp and I feel my legs and arms hit against something… something soft catching me, saving me from the fall, rocking me gently, holding me tight… I open my eyes wide abruptly and see her eyes just above me. Sparklight...

~/Wake up, wake up Eva. Breathe… you forgot to breathe.../~ I hear her in my head while I realize that she holds me in her arms, keeping me close to her chest. I gasp a sudden, deep, uncontrolled breath, one, then the next one and another one… my lungs are hurting and hissing loud while I frantically look around for the monster and the stranger, but there is only me and her on our little meadow on the top of the hill. It is night, we are outside and the dark shape of the shed is only a little darker than everything else. There are no bright stars on the sky and the air is damp and moist but my face is burning with fever, my lungs are torn and my back is on fire…

I shake my head to get rid of the falling. I look at her, overwhelmed by the dream, by the urgency to decipher it before the bits and pieces dissolve in the darkness of sobriety that takes over and sneaks into me together with the wet air. There is something angry within me, something scared and betrayed… I feel these few blades along my spine rising up and sharpening, cutting the dressings and scratching the arms that hold me. So she lets me go and I finally land on my feet, free from her embrace, still gasping for the air.

“Sparklight” - I utter still infected by remains of the dream - “Who am I? What is my name?” - I push the sounds out of my lungs into the real, material air that carries my sound waves out to everything dead or living around us. I raise up on my toes and clutch my human fleshy hands into the sharp edges of her chest armour. Blue-red blood drips from my fingers that I must have scratched somehow, but I don’t really care. I fuckin’ don’t want to care…

She looks at me bewildered and her eyes change colour rapidly for a moment. Then she rises herself to stand up and I have to let go or I would fly up hanging in the air.

~/You are Eva/~ she replies in her subconscious ways but I am not going to give up easily.

“Can you *say* it? Like, for real? So that I can be sure I do not imagine but can hear it…” - I demand.

Her face changes abruptly and something like fear surfaces for a moment before she controls it. She looks away, closing her eyes for a split second. Then she looks back at me.

~/This now… It is happening, it is real…/~ she tries to assure me but I am not convinced. Anger and doubt rise in me, painful remains of the stupid nightmare that make me feel as if it was all still a nightmare, just another one and yet another one, that leaves a bad aftertaste even if I am forgetting it as quickly as I was falling down…

“How can I even be sure of that!” - I snap uncontrollably, words starting to shoot out of my mouth, wanted or not, they cut through the air like a series from a machine gun - “I am not even certain if I am here right now. It all seems like a dream, like virtual reality, like I am on drugs or something, I don’t even know how I did not yet ask this question to myself…” - I go around agitated, whipping my tail against the grass, not even looking at her - “...so far. I mean, I must be delusional, you must be some kind of a product of my imagination and I am not here and I will wake up... Ouch!!!” - I squeal achingly and realize that I just hit my tail against the ground while beating around with it aimlessly. The streak of pain makes me just angrier and I jump over to her face in a lame leap up shoving against her chest with my paws like a fierce cat on a night run.

Bounced away by the impetus I fall back to the ground losing balance, right on my back, on my hurting wound, with metal blades sticking out now, pushed painfully right into my spine for an aching moment… I roar one short growl of pain, realizing, too late that I’ve pushed her out of balance too and she’s faltering, almost in slow motion. I see her legs undercut with my feet while I flick like a fish in a net trying to lift myself from the ground. Then the world speeds up and I see her body plunging over me, first down to her knees, then onto her hands, into the grass, right above me. It makes an awful noise and I catch my breath. I did not realize but I must have stopped breathing again for a second or two. But I do not give up. Lying now below her on the ground I continue the thought like a broken record that has no idea when to stop and just shut the hell up.

“You do not even speak... I have no idea how I understand you... who you are…” - her body is dangerously hanging over me with the whole of her weight, that, I believe, I could not carry anymore that easily as a few days ago - “...what is this magic you are practising on me…” - her head tilts to the side and I see her arms tremble a little - “or are you a simple illusion that makes my senses go mad…” - her eyes shine a mix of colours: blue and red, intertwining… - “and make me imagine I have a tail of metal that hears things and hurts when I hit it against the ground...” - I almost whine to myself and to her while she keeps looking at me and doesn’t disappear at all witnessing my outburst of disbelief and rejection from her position up above me. It is only her eyes that are turning more and more grey-blue in place of the shining red that I saw in them a moment ago...

“It's ridiculous, can't you see?” - I shout out finally closing my eyes tight for a moment when I say it, still lying there locked in place by the ache in my weak, inflammation consumed body and her powerful presence above me. She is still there when I peer again from between my eyelids. - “Say something, for Christ’s sake, and stop staring at me like this!” - I gasp, suddenly uncomfortable with her silent, solid weight above me. A complex movement waves across her cheeks and lips and the whole face, an expression of feelings I cannot identify… Or can I, in fact? There are so many… The electromagnetic aura around her is boiling like lava, regardless of my denial. Her elbows bend slightly lower, she turns her face away, almost out of my sight, as if to hide its now uncontrolled expression.

Why do I have a feeling that if mechanical tears existed, one would drop onto me from above, right from under the closed robot eyelid, to splash against my angry face and pin my head to the ground with its weight?

This is when I stop. I open my mouth and close it again like some stupid frog. I realize what I have just been doing. Shouting at her, pushing her, accusing… Because I had a bad dream. The skin on my back aches horribly, I feel little bits and pieces of rock, wood and grass sticking into my swollen tissues, infecting the wound further with the dirt of the Earth and life. What was the dream about? It felt so real… But I hardly remember anything but the outline. Why do I have all these feelings that storm me…?

“Sparklight?” - I ask in an unexpectedly uncertain voice, not sure what to think and plagued by a momentary sense of guilt… I see the shape of her helm and her alien profile against the dark sky. The light of her opening eyes is gleaming very lightly in the dispersed mist around us. If not for my own blue shining that makes her visible at all, with her body glow gone, she would be just a black shadow above me… Something clenches inside me. I just do not understand myself. What is it that I want...

“Sparklight… I….”

She turns her eyes back at me, her face frozen in expression of great focus and effort. She nods slowly to me and… with some strange determination, she *speaks*:

_“Eva… Your name is Eva… Evangeline”_

The harsh, metallic, flat sound of her voice is similar to the one I heard in my dream. An artificial machine-generated voice from cheap sci-fi movies from the 60ties.

_“You are… important… to me”_

It hangs in the air, dense and oily, sticking to my skin and falling heavily on my face and on my breasts and thighs together with the descending dew. It veils me with a metallic taste that tickles, it covers me and goes through me, through the pores of my skin and openings of my wounds, attaching to my innermost particles...

“Sparklight…” - my voice sounds meek now, so unlike the one a few moments ago - “You… you do not need to speak anymore. I... I am sorry I *made* you do it” - I say instead of everything else and I get scared momentarily by what I pronounced... Did I *make* her do it? Am I so omnipotent to make her do anything at all? I am as small as a grain of sand and she is like a desert, still looking at me, talking to me, giving me her attention… Whatever I say now seems wrong, exalted and misplaced. It would have been better if I vowed silence and shut up once and for all...

She arches above me, the same way when she was kneeling defeated in the grass when she could not fly and crashed down so many times. _I am important to her_ … she said… My mind is grilled. Just a moment ago I shouted at her and almost hit her for no reason… I am lying motionless now, looking her into the eyes. Her face is above mine, her arms rest supported on the sides of my shoulders. We stay like that hypnotized…

The grass is dancing around us in the wet air and my torn back aches, but it suddenly becomes unimportant. For I feel the rush in my veins, and I hear my heartbeat filling the sudden silence. I have lost… I become drugged and on high again. I feel the magic overwhelming me once more, and the longer it takes, the stronger her slim segmented belly and armoured chest glow their delicate internal light from between the seams right onto me again. The dark clouds above her do not matter as her shining throws dim shadows on the unmade shapes of my shabby disfigured body.

We stare at each other in the strange moment of stillness and then she breathes deep and lowers herself a little closer to my face. I am so small and she is like a roof above me, sheltering and shielding me from the world. Even if it rained and snowed and hailed I would not be touched. Her breath is like a delicate breeze, the humming of her systems is like distant sea waves, her shining is like moonlight.

I. Am. Waiting. I hold my breath and keep my eyes open. I wish I could physically feel the shining of our eyes blending together. I wish… if I could put all the meaning I have inside me right now into physical shape, I would grow millions of tendrils of light that would shoot out and wrap around her dragging her into me. But I just have my mattery hands, injured and wounded back, thrown onto the ground by the impact of my angry eruption.

Her eyes shine above me while my thoughts run crazy in my head meaning nothing. They are just like millions of colours accidentally thrown into one bucket of chemistry producing the overwhelming desire that cures my pain and doesn’t let me move. I fear… that if I move I will distort the balance. The pendulum will fall, the bubble will burst... She will get up and rise from above me, walk away… no longer letting us hang in suspension, determining the distance, so close now to being broken, but yet so far, far out of touch.

The emptiness in me demands, requires, urges her presence _with me… within me…_ and half a meter above me is an infinity too far… I want to be fed. Not only through the back of my neck although I would give a world if she plugged in there *right now*. My hungry internals twist and turn wanting her as I breathe the air that she exhales, I wish I could delete my yesterday's useless whining, erase my angry reaction to the dream... I wish she would… I wish I had the courage… to reach out to her… But how can I… I just cannot move... I… just…

~/I… need… you… inside of me/~ my thoughts betray me, they speak for me in this strange way that I still cannot control, so it releases itself without my supervision, it just says itself right into her mind and I *know* it the very moment it leaves my head, and she hears it although my lips do not move, the air is undisturbed by any unnecessary sound, but I invite her, as abruptly as I turned against her a few whiles ago… So unfair and manipulative perhaps, I should say something, say sorry or tell her back how important she is to me, as a being, as a person, how I was scared I could lose her in the dream… somehow, this all gets stuck in my hellish escapism, and instead, I just want her inside me, this is the strongest thought that kicks out of me through the boundaries of my mind right into hers. I want her close, very close, I want to fill in the gap that the dream caused, that all my fear and doubt created. I want the closeness and warmth that she can offer in this absurd situation out in the fields, away from home, from my past, from life, from reality…

I scare myself once more but I cannot help it. In my mind full of drama I am almost prepared for her to get up and leave, that would be the only wise thing to do…

Instead, her eyes change colour again and she opens her mouth and says, in that flat, strange, artificially generated voice that I asked to hear a moment ago:

_“Teach me what to do”_

“Sparklight…” - I gasp as my eyes go wider and my heart speeds up even more if that is at all possible. Swallowing the last of my bitterness and pride I look at her in surprise. After that kiss yesterday I think she just knows everything no matter how irrational it may seem. She is no human but she has got the humanity I've always dreamt of. She seems to be reading me as if she were me, as if I programmed her to understand what I ever dreamt of… How come she asks now what to do? But she still asks… She is a machine made of neither flesh nor blood nor bones… Did she read my thoughts when I was thinking things that my body wanted? Or when I explicitly did *not* think about the wishes and lusts I was ashamed of even in front of myself…? Did she scan my fantasies when she connected to me back at the datacentre and later at the shed? Did she see through me with her all-embracing vision when she was still part of the building and had all the security cameras at her disposal? She had enough time to see through me… but how she could understand that all, not being human at all...

“Sparklight” - I clench my blood-filled muscles in no understanding but determined not to escape, not to withdraw from the avenue of shame, fear and innermost deep longing - “You know best what to do…”

 _“Those who’ve been inside you… You’ve been hurt before…”_ \- she replies in the same awkward voice hanging above me in her overwhelming position of a master and the goddess of my little being crumbled below her - _“I don’t want to be one of them_ ” - she whispers flatly leaning closer and heavier above me. God, she knows more than my therapist after many sessions of my useless rambling. She is the ghost I’ve been dreaming of… She is one of the *none*. I raise my face towards hers so that there are just a few centimetres left between us and my lips form the words that flow through the breath-filled silence:

“You… you are not hurting me… you are wonderful… you are the only... nobody ever… before…” - my voice still stammers after the sudden insane outburst a few minutes ago. Or maybe I am just excited. Maybe I can't believe in all this. The whisper gets us closer, her arms bend lower and her chest almost touches mine while the glowy lines along her body pulse stronger. What is it that she feels now? Dear God… If I could only know what is there inside her...

But it all is enough for me to unfreeze and reach out my hands really, really slowly to touch her chest. A strange electric current passes across my shoulders, my spine, my legs, to the very tip of my tail. It is the same bizarre sensation I learned to recognize already but now I am able to focus and give into it in a different way. I’m able to *consume* it. I am not chaotic, I am there inside of the tips of my fingers touching her while she keeps pulsing that mystifying light.

It lasts for a few moments and then something opens under my palms. Like a snake shedding her skin, her armour transforms into small bits and moves away revealing her dark velvety skin that glows a dim rainbow of most beautiful colours. My fingers fall deeper inside her and melt with her light. She lowers herself yet a little more touching me with her forehead and we both look at her body, now naked and even more beautiful. Her light shines between my fingers, my hands look like dark shadows against a bright ghostly wonder, cover art from a horror or an angel movie… I raise my hands to her face and hold it firmly in my palms lifting it up to look at me again. She obeys with no resistance. My eyes search back into hers, just to see the moving clockwork mechanisms deep inside. Their colour changes in the rhythm of her body and… in the rhythm of her breath. A slightly warmer wave of air vents on me from her half-open mouth, from her chest, as if she were a goddamn mermaid breathing underwater, from her shoulders and arms, from between the segments of her body… She is not human although I almost forget it, she seems to breathe with the whole of her being, the flow is soft and almost indiscernible, if she weren't so near and I wasn’t so sensitive, maybe I would not even notice…

I inhale deeply the sweet air she releases, I am not even sure if that is air or another of her addictive drugs, it gives me sway in my head and hunger in my lungs… I would like to keep it forever inside me but I have to let the breath go finally or I’ll suffocate. I exhale slowly while our eyes drill into each other. Her face is close to mine, forehead to forehead, lips to lips, nearly touching… I realise that she catches the air I set free right into her lungs, her vents, her whole system, whatever she has inside that needs air. I hear the sound that it makes and I wait a slight moment to breathe it in again. To breathe in… breathe out… breathe in… breathe out… breathe in…

I cannot withstand.

“You are… a true demon” - I whisper and I pull her towards me. She gives in and follows, almost lying over me with her weight, but not smashing me underneath her, she just covers me like a blanket while her tentacles appear from nowhere. She touches me carefully on the cheeks, little tendrils extend from the tip of her feeler and they spread delicately across my face, almost tickling me… Her other tentacle runs around my disfigured body. It transmits a pulse, but not the one of my heart this time, but the one of her own… She pulls me closer in turn. I am almost passive, with my hands stroking her glow, I let her travel with soft tendrils as if I were leading her solely with thoughts, but still retaining suspense, not sure what comes next. I am weak and paralysed but I enjoy it even more this way. I do not *have to* do anything. She is there… taking care of me… again. I close my eyes and open my mouth. Something slips inside it and caresses my lips and tongue, then it goes down my throat carefully avoiding the vexatious throw-up spot. Her tendrils go down into my stomach and into my lungs and my body accepts them gently, without a single twitch, as if they always belonged there. My tongue is all wrapped in their tight softness, and I feel how my muscles relax allowing this alien invasion to continue - down, deep, deep inside me.

My body feels how her other tentacle glides around it lifting me slightly from the ground. It goes slowly around my neck, my shoulders and breasts, then around my waist, and my hips down to my legs, while her breath feeds me with that sweet smell that makes my head go round. She does not use her hands, but her feelers are just enough or even more than I could ever desire. I just let her… I just let her do what she does without any thinking. My body softens, it faints almost, I hang down in her embrace like a sleeping cat, like a rag doll, I let her do whatever she wants, wishing and wanting her to continue forever. All the pain is gone, there is just my desire to get swallowed, eaten up, digested by her completely. The desire I tried to hold back but I couldn't... I want her to immerse me in herself, in her shining, in her flesh that is no flesh, to unite me with what she is, pump her blue toxic blood into me again…

But she does not dock in. There is no cheating, chemistry tricks, no physical symbiosis. Same as when we kissed, we remain separate creatures. Yet she is all over me and I am wet inside, I am producing the hormones of love in such enormous quantity that makes me drift and float in her embrace. She radiates gentle heat and her heaviness over me is reassuring and safe. Her tentacle wraps around my thigh and, then, before I manage to start begging her in my thoughts, the tendrils, same as those which sit deep in my throat already, slip out, under my clothes, sniffing on the warm sticky part of me… I wait. I wait insanely. I wait tense and expecting, until they finally go in, little touches of sleeky warmth reaching inside and softly caressing my innermost bits and pieces. They wander and touch my soft, swollen flesh that throbs with more and more blood invading the vessels of the intimate tissues inside me. I’m fully at her mercy and I like it, I love it, I enjoy it. It is too good to be true, as if she was plugged in even though she is not, understanding what I feel when she’s doing it. Slowly, gently, she rubs in, on, at, over and along my interior, finding the nodes of my senses, and activating all that they have to offer, while I kiss the thin air between us, her velvet skin, her soft closeness, that gives me everything that people failed to give me ever before. I don’t need to fantasise, the fantasy is fulfilling itself with rhythmic contractions of my smooth muscle matter clenching around her tendrils and her tentacle tip inside me. I come slowly and lengthily, with my breath hot but calm, my moaning gentle and deep, my body surrendered, my head gone to oblivion…

I’m exhausted and almost passed out when she kisses me in the end, even more gently than the day before. First on my forehead, almost as if she were a mother kissing a baby who tore her knee playing outside and now having to ease the pain of self-pity and childish fear. Then on the lips, still cradling and holding me softly, dipping her tongue gently in mine, warming my tired body with her wings, while I’m rubbing against the light that is her. My light, my spark, my Sparklight. Tired as I am, I kiss her back greedily, like if I never had enough, as if I wanted her always, closer, tighter and warmer. She seems to understand that, and she lets me caress her, she gives in to me as I surrender to her, with that difference that I don’t know what to do, I do not really know what is that she needs and desires, I just fulfill my own hunger for her, my missing, my longing, my addiction and my drama. I wish so badly her to want me the same way. Because the more I ingest her, the more I will suffer if she is ever gone. The more I comfort myself… the more I will be missing her. I am terrified with this thought and my hands, still trembling, hold on to her chest desperately even though tiredness and fever are taking my vision away, and my tongue moves finally slower and slower, still resting inside her mouth.

Finally, she gets up on her tall, powerful mechanical legs and carries me into the shed, puts me on the hay and then lies down next to me, so very close, hugging my trembling body into hers, and I feel the whisper of her transmission:

~/Sleep tight, Eva.../~

~/You are the best thing that ever happened to me/~ my desolated thoughts murmur as I lean closer to her.

~/It’s alright, it’s all good, I am here/~ I hear her comforting whisper fading away the same time as I disappear.

I am too weak to say anything more, but my thoughts circle around her, entangling her in a web of affection and I pray that she can feel it. I send her whole my warmth while I pass out, tired to the bone and tormented with the fever that comes back and overwhelms my body as the charm of my orgasm wears off finally. I hold on close to her, my hands clenched around her, never wanting to let go, and my insides succumbing to her sweet dominance and her all-overwhelming goodness.

Finally, we fall asleep, tucked in together, our bodies entangled into each other: the strange beautiful creature that she is and the bizarre abomination of a half-human being and half-unknown, that is me. I’m curled up into a little ball while she guards me from all sides with her strong metal body about which I learned how soft and gentle it can be. I lean my head on her belly and feel the glowy skin pulsing against my cheek. She sends me the last warm look of her magical colourful eyes gazing from the other end of myself, her silvery dark face leaning warmly into a pillow of hay at my feet. I feel her slender fingers tightening in a sleepy grip around the base of my tail. I rub my cheek against a soft unarmoured bit of her body on the waist and I kiss delicately the pulsing light. It sends a slight electric impulse across her and she purrs delicately smiling back at me softly. Her wing embraces me even closer and her tentacle squeezes tighter around my thigh, the other one resting deeply within my messy hair. Then her eyes go dim and they close as she finally stops moving and falls asleep for good. I feel the calming rhythm of her systems while I slowly slip into nothingness.

In the last moments of clarity, before everything blends into sweet soft darkness, I register as something within myself surrenders into a warm soft furry ball of a feeling, way outside of any reasoning, erasing all my nightmares, my futile struggles and my own fights with myself, thinking itself almost automatically out of control of my brain:

_Whatever she is, I love her._


	13. White Flowers

_Trees are covered in snow of white flowers. Their branches float gently in the air as I walk past them below the shelter of their beauty. I walk, I even run inside a corridor of a white, spring or winter wonder, leaving my footprints on the virgin land of a pathway leading to my place, to my home, to myself. Petals of white dance behind me as I gain speed in my chase after the morning sun._

_Power in my muscles, fire in my veins, blossom in my head, my lungs breathing deep... I jump up and touch a blooming branch with my hand letting a glittering avalanche fall over me lightly. I jump again and again. I feel like running faster and dancing and singing forever. The early sun warms me. My energy screams from my insides right to the world, clearing the fresh, oxygen filled air that smells spring and wonder that I breathe with the full chest._

_I hold a book in my hand, a book that has fallen from the Master’s hands right into my own. The first ever real gift I got in my life…_

_My teacher, the one I adored and admired, gave me this little book filled with wisdom, whose each verse, I promise to myself, I will remember. It speaks of the Universe and its nature, the mighty powers that run it, the mechanics of time and wonders that can be put in equations. Safe, tamed, glorious and endless grandiosity of reality at its purest. The holiest Physics: A Brief History Of Time..._

_There was no reason, no trigger, nothing special that caused the book to fall in my hands from the Master’s heights. It just did. One day, after classes, she just stopped me in the door and put it right in my hand. “It’s a gift. For the future. For your future. It will keep you safe. _Remember_…”_

_The way the lofty, inaccessible, far away demigod paid attention to me, to my deepest dreams and my interests, made me *worthy* - however insignificant I had ever been so far, however unimportant, nothing more than just a tiny being, one of those petals of white falling off the mighty branches on my way home… Now I am worthy._

_I know the path leads nowhere, it is just perfect as it is, for this moment, right now, and I don't want to spoil it. I don’t want to break this perfection. So I run and smile, basking in the moment, caressed by the sun, breathing the clear air, the sweet, sweet smell of flowers, the freshness of snow, of the book’s rough printed paper, of dreams of the future to come. Remembering, registering, recording..._

_With the book in my hand, to keep me safe throughout my lifetime, whatever is yet to come._

* * *

 

I wake up in the darkness embroidered with streaks of early morning sunlight falling through knag holes in the wooden wall. I am buried in dry hay that spreads the aroma of countryside and young summer. At first, I do not know where I am. I just enjoy the slummer until a residue of pain catches up with me. But not intensely. It is wiping slowly the sleep away from my eyelids. It’s subdued and it does not take away the blessedness of the sunny morning and the closeness that I experienced. The closeness…

Small droplets of sun warm little spots on my face defying the cool darkness around. I close my eyes again for a moment and try to recall the feeling that I fell asleep with. It gives me goodness that I almost do not remember from ever before. _I remember…_ my werewolf, my loveliest demon is lying asleep next to me, tangible and real, within the reach of my hand.

I turn around slowly to look at her. She is a dark purple-blue-silver shape buried in the hay just half a meter away. The sun creates an abstract pattern on her surface shining through the irregular punctures in the wall. She is calm and motionless, veiled in the melting darkness intensified by the contrast of sunny dots and stripes. I wonder what she is dreaming of and I smile to my wordless, liquid thoughts that flow freely around her. They are warm and represent something new, something I just cannot place really in the rational part of me. If it was to be named, it would fall close to what I’d call a bliss.

My _lover_ is lying next to me, on a warm late spring morning. My lover… who made *me* fly sky high, and who then cradled me to sleep… My lover, who asked nothing in return and stayed with me until the morning and did not leave me alone. *This* is not something I have much experience in. This is too good to be true. Maybe it had to take an alien to get it right for me finally? An alien woman made of metal, minerals and electricity… A ball of softness and warmth unwraps between my heart and my stomach.

_Sparklight, teach me what to do…_

I promise myself - if the world does not fall on our heads it is now my turn to give. To make her fly through heavens without the need to rise her lovely head from the hay…

It tempts me slightly to reach out and touch her, but then I would wake her up. I can still wait a little, keep the blissful morning the way it is for a few more moments. She is right here, with me. Sweetly asleep. And it feels so real.

Surprisingly I am not so scared anymore. I am not terrified of my affection. It doesn’t mean I stopped thinking. On the contrary, maybe for the first time in this whole adventure I have a moment for myself. To think about all things that happened, in the privacy of my own head, before she wakes up, before the whirlwind sets off and I will need to find myself anew over and over again. Because every situation with her is new. My brain and my thoughts do not catch up at all. I have not even had the time to realize where I am standing, and most of all, what’s going on deep inside me. It seems like I am running propelled only by my heart and my body, who decided to place its liking in a creature that different. So odd, yet so dear…

I glimpse up at the roof above us. It is there as it was the last time. Real. Not the non-existent nightmare blackness, but a structure of wood, dipped in a cool shadow of retreating night, familiar and safe. The longer I am here, out in the wild with her, the more I seem to detach from what is real. The more this here seems normal, plausible, natural, not strange…

Do my senses deceive me? Why, finally, for once, am I in touch with myself and with all things around me? I do not feel like I’m floating in water. No more virtual reality. Was it the climax I went through that cleared the air around me? I am sick, trembling a little, my face hot, nose stuck from the cold of the stream water I bathed in. But I feel better than yesterday, better than ever - I’m better inside my head. What did she do to me? A deep breath escapes my lungs. She did the simplest thing. She made me forget for a moment. This is so little and so much.

But then again… I still _remember_. So many things, that I would love to sort and label, put in order, understand. I’m looking at her in silence. If you have butterflies in your stomach when you fall in love, are there metal butterflies when you’re in love with a machine girl? Why don’t they cut me to pieces with their razorblade wings and needle antennas…? They are so soft and warm.

So… I am here. How did I get to this point? I just did. I have lost everything. I am homeless, penniless and my body is sick, my wound infected. One day I was writing code in the office listening to what I thought was silence of glass wind-swept walls of the building. The other, I snatched a bit of suspicious, talking hardware from the datacentre. The third, I was lying flat down on the ground with my soul naked in front of a metal werewolf, my guts confessing surrender and whispering songs of love at first sight. What comes to me with the fourth…?

Is there a way back? Do I care? I do… but maybe not for retreat, but maybe, maybe for the future?

I haven’t even really gotten a proper chance to get to know the alien creature, the beast that lies beside me and whom I’ve now called my lover. It feels so queer, good and scary. I do not understand.

Yet, there is some kind of a pattern, if I, at all, can compare it. I did have fast love affairs and big passions. They mostly ended pathetically. The fire caught fast and died fast, burning me to ashes in the meantime, again and again, curling up my limbs, calcinating my bones, leaving me empty and ashamed in front of my psychologist’s glasses. Often, I thought it was just _‘me myself and I’_ who immolated myself in those blazing flames. The people who crossed my path were insignificant in view of the bigger picture. At least I forced them so in my head, I *made* them unimportant. I made them also inhuman, impersonal, not worth it… in order to survive my self-inflicted destruction. Well, that is not so uncommon with people as colourfully diagnosed as I’ve been: with sadness like a stamp on my forehead, trauma chopping through my borderline dreams, telling me to jump into depths where I shouldn't even look into…

But love? How come? What do I know about love? Does it come from the flesh or is it born in the spirit? Is it a cultural construct, state of the soul, a chemical reaction or maybe a habit, attachment? Is it an altruist feeling or the highest form of arrogance?

Me, a survivor, stuck in millions of chains, with the biggest dream to set myself free... Me, the one that abused her own body and soul by desperation, negligence and dutiful responsibility for what doesn’t really matter, to hide past layers of decay never truly uncovered… Why do I even think of love? So easily and so bluntly… Isn't that just lust, need for attention and other hormonal or existential foolishness that tickle my heart so dearly? Or is it something new? Something I never had, but I have built overnight? If I made my failed lovers inhuman, did *I* then make my alien werewolf human? Is it all in my head? Clearly against evolution… Why do I feel so high with someone I don't really know for real? Where does the goodness she is giving me come from…?

The last few days since Sparklight made her mark on my life seem so _significant_. So intense. Out of my life’s intense moments, I recall the death of my foster grandmother, from whom I have taken my second name, Ingebjörk. She was my old teacher and mentor who gave me my true identity. She was the one to interest me in technology enough to build my further life on it. She gave me fascination, something I had never known before.

She arrived to my city yet before the war from the Far North chasing her love southwards right to the heart of the Eastern Borderlands of the Best Of The Worlds, otherwise known as the Wonder Union of Split Nations. She arrived to my city of green trees, wide streets and young, poor, wild future democracy. I met her when she was old already, almost retired, working her last years in my school teaching physics and computer science and still researching at the Technical University. I cherished her friendship until her very last moments. She gave me all the excuses to breed my romance with science. Others just came and went, caring for exams only, while I stuck around asking questions, sharing doubts, wanting more... I could be different from others. It was alright. It was right... Or so I thought finally after years of mental exile.

Yet, I was truly a stranger everywhere else than within the books- and computers-filled Electronics and IT Faculty of old Ingebjörk, where I ended up studying. I let her patiently lead me by the hand through the world of mathematics, computation theory and complex algorithms into the crown of her study: artificial intelligence, which I eventually took over (to make me end up in the arms of a living robot? I smile in my head at that, yes it must be my fate truly talking to me...).

And she brought me food too, I remember, when I was too busy to eat and I did not feel my body starving, which was almost always. She was *feeding* me… My eyes slide over the slim sharp-edged silhouette of Sparklight sleeping next to me, curled up on her side like a huge baby, her face buried in the hay, legs bent and knees dragged up a little. Sparklight feeds me too…

Even when Ingebjörk retired, she never stopped her research. She believed in creation of non-carbon based lifeforms, that would be born just from thought, consciousness or spirit coded into automated systems with the capability of learning and autonomous thinking. It was a miracle that she even cared to teach high-school teenagers on the margins of that life of wonder. It was also her who helped me rent the first room of my own when I just reached eighteen and could finally live truly on my own. I could pay it from private lessons I gave to some thick but rich children from local schools: physics, mathematics, languages that I spoke in abundance. I moved out of the saddest place in the world and gained freedom. I read, I studied, I dreamed.

I trusted Ingebjörk. A small, distinguished, yet quite relaxed old lady, with her priorities straight, her authority silent, past gloomy and her mind that of a genius. She survived the blood-filled horror of war, punished severely for her wrong origin, and her heart perished over her loved one who did not endure wartime atrocities. Yet, she stayed in the foreign land of mine where she never truly belonged. Most likely quite alone, until she met me. I pride myself… I guess... I think I close to loved her, my mentor and my guardian. She gave me my real life.

I realised that fully one day in my late twenties, when I already had a real job, a rented woodpecker's hole of a flat of my own and a set of some useless love affairs behind me. That day I went to see her, as usual, with a bag of oranges in hand. The flat was closed and only silence answered the doorbell, until an elderly neighbour peeked out to see me through a narrow opening in her door. She called me with an excited whisper:

“Miss… there’s no use knocking”

“Excuse me? Why?”

“They took her. There was an ambulance”

“What happened?” - my heart nearly stopped beating waiting for the answer.

“Stroke, South-District hospital, I asked that handsome young man who...”

I ran like mad, did not listen. I almost crashed my car on the way and parked wherever it got, not caring for signs and warnings. Just to find out I was… too late. I was simply _too late_. Even to hold her hand.

The receptionist hardly told me what happened. I needed many good excuses, because we were no family on paper and it was medical information I asked for. Death is personal data… _AccessDenied_ : _Permission Not Granted, Connection Unauthorised..._ Exhausted with a lengthy endeavour to prove that neither the old lady nor I had any family at all, or maybe just seeing my face grimaced with fear and distress, the receptionist finally called someone higher or deeper in the hospital structures and then just shook her head:

“I’m sorry.”

“So you still cannot tell me...?”

“I can… I can make an exception. I’m sorry, she passed away, it was too late, we could do nothing.”

I still remember myself standing there, with those stupid oranges in hand, blocking the flow of the corridor traffic, grown with my feet to the floor, people bumping into me in their rush to their loved ones… who lived.

While I am hardly able to put in words most of the bad and sad things that life fledged me with, I have *never* been able to describe the emptiness that death of Ingebjörk brought me. _She was important to me…._ My only family, my closest friend, my rock, my fortress, the fundamental axiom… on which I had built all assumptions of my future to come. I cannot even name it now, ten years after, as I’m lying here in an abandoned shed in the mountains, breathing the sunny morning air, next to my loveliest demon.

What has come over me to dig out these memories? I must have dreamt again, tonight… White flowers, my old street… Or was that Ingebjörk’s street that came back to me in the dream? It was good, I remember. It was a happy dream…

I lie, looking at Sparklight, watching how sunlight moves over her dark dimly coloured shapes, partly hidden by straw. I breathe slowly, thoughtfully. My eyes follow little particles of dust that dance in the air, basking in the rays of falling light, drawing their shiny pathways across the fake black emptiness. They jump up and down with every breath I take and release. My breath… _but not hers_. Does she breathe only sometimes? She was breathing yesterday… A lot. Even panting, almost… I have no idea about her anatomy. But my memory brings me back the touch and smell of the air she exhaled and my stomach and my heart melt into warm chocolate slime spreading liquid sweetness across my whole body. I roll over closer to her, gently, not really willing to wake her. Not yet. Not abruptly. I want her to dream softly… I reach out to touch her with my fingers… and…

… there is something wrong. Horribly _wrong_. She is clearly here but she is… cold. And hard. Totally unlike what she was yesterday, unlike how I remember. And the field… there seems to be no energy field floating around her... I raise myself on the elbow and stroke her face with my hand… Maybe this is what she looks like when she's sleeping? Maybe she is just freezing from the cold of the night? But no. She is clearly _stiff_. I can feel it. _Stiff..._ Like a stray cat I used to feed many years ago who one day did not come for food at the regular time. I went looking for it in all the places I knew it used to hide. And I found it… on the top cellar shelf of a basement compartment in my block of flats. _Stiff…_ … … … A nasty shiver goes down my spine. I try again, shake her a little. She doesn’t react. Her surface does not feel like the skin I touched and kissed yesterday. _Stiff… ... ... ..._

Adrenaline hits me insanely. I jump up spreading the hay all around me. The next second I am digging madly and brushing the straw away from her to all directions. She is _stone cold_. _Stark solid…_ Not shiny and glowy anymore but greish and matte. She looks like a *thing*, like a dead metal body of a robot toy with batteries depleted, dead... Holy fuck, what, why, how...?

She is motionless and still, and even as I shake her stronger, pull her by the wing, almost slap her flat-handed, she doesn’t react at all. She is like a metal figure or a powered off machine. I realize how much metal and mechanics she is made of. Where did her warmth and softness come from? Where did they go?

A dead body… flashes through my memory. An autopsy I saw long ago... A person, an _object_ that it represented, was cut open for others to see what we all look like inside. This impression… as if he could well be fake, death made him look artificial, like made of wax… I felt guilty for this reaction, I knew he had been a *person*, he had been *someone*, like me, he had been breathing, thinking, loving someone…

No way she’s becoming a thing, an object, a mere metal figure. I just freed her from the confines of the building and now she is supposed to glow her wonderful light and smile her gorgeous smile to the sun. Transform and fly up into the skies…

“Wake up” - I whisper - “Hey Sparklight, wake up, you MUST WAKE UP…” - I raise my voice shaking her frame and turning her over to the back to see the beautiful eyes blank, colourless, half closed and not shining anymore. At all...

How is it that I did not see it coming? How could I’ve been so blind, like a mole… Haven’t I seen her falling, hurting, losing her light, bleeding? She tried to hide it, yes, but… Each step slower, heavier, not moving more than she had to, her eyes turning grey and tired… I was so focused on myself, like I was the only thing that mattered. _Me, myself and I_ …

I didn’t even notice how I tore my stitches with the effort to move her. The wound is open to the world again, bleeding warm, smelly, infected fluids into the fatigued, dirty and unchanged dressings. Fear throttles me, and _I_ , * _me*_ \- the rational one who knows all the answers for *others* and who helps everyone in crisis, * _I*_ am lost and become hysterical. AaaaaaAAaaa my heart beats in my throat, what do I do? What shall I do now?

Panic puts my heart into overstress, I look around frantically, rush out of the shed, I look around again, rush in again, in total chaos. I do not see the weather and the juicy green plantlife anymore. I do not care for the beauty, I do not care for the world.

_My Sparklight!!!_

I have to do something.  
Anything…  
… to save her.  
To have her with me again.  
To let her live… and let her choose what she wants to be… even if it is without me.  
Although…  
Even if…  
...even if it would be _without_ me. I realize.  
_She is important to me_ and I need her...  
...to be whatever she chooses.  
Alive!

All my poor knowledge of first aid is useless. She is no human, I do not know a thing about her… Or… She is so human-like after all, just made of metal, electricity, some weird mechanics and soft tissues deeper inside which I have no idea what they are. Can she be that different? She’s got hands, legs, and a head, she’s got a chest and, in it, this _spark_ that she mentioned, if I figure correctly… If the spark gives her life and her head gives her consciousness… And this blue energon, her blood, circulates in between…

I press both hands to her throat and seek if there is anything resembling veins and arteries and… I find one. A round, thick cable filled with something liquid is _pulsing_ slowly and weakly. She’s got to be alive!!! Something’s still flowing inside her… faintly, but it’s there… Now, what do I do? I must sort it out somehow. Like I always do. SORT IT OUT!

My eyes catch a glimpse of my tail and I reflect seriously for the first time that it is made of metal. Same as her. And it has all these sensors, and this blue blood that she was feeding me with… Doesn’t it circulate now in my own veins as well…?

The tail’s hanging pointlessly but this is because I do not know how to use it. I raise it, swiftly and easily and inspect it with caution, letting my panicked brain work through my resources, among them the data sequences she loaded into me a few nights before when she was still trapped into the walls of our office building. Then if flashes. _Breathe in… breathe out_. How many times did breathing help me out the last days?

 _Breathe in, breathe out_ … I turn her head to the side, clear up straw from her neck and search through her cover plates. I stick my fingers below them and try to pry a little… I put some more effort, cut my scratched and dirty skin on the sharp scale-like edges, but yes, it yields results… The panels bend a little and give way reluctantly. Probably it will hurt her later but now it does not matter...

There they are, on her neck. Her sockets. Four small metal holes. Same as mine. Now it is my turn to give… I take a deep breath, lift my tail and I *plug in*.

Hope blends with my fear. I am not sure how to do this but I seem to have some instinct that helps me, the same instinct that changed the tip of my tail to a connector compatible with her system. I should not be surprised. Almost automatically, I start the connection... A great weakness takes over my body and I can *feel* her unconscious through the link that I have established myself. Do I, too, have soft black tendrils going inside her body? I do not even know that… I shiver… I do not know so much. I know almost nothing at all. Dark dense lava pours over me and it drags me down to oblivion. But I try to withstand. I have to hold on. I have to get _my Sparklight_ back to life. I disregard the thick blackness and push stronger, pumping my own blood into her fainted system. Minutes pass one by one, I can count them ticking, hanging and spreading in the air around us. _Come back, my Sparklight!_

Her silence makes me listen. I do not know what I expected, maybe nothing at all, but the open connection forces through with its own logic. It invades me with its alien transmission... I hear, feel… see things I cannot define.

First, it emerges weakly, but then it grows in my vision, like shadows I cannot grasp. I try to look straight at them, but they escape to the corners… Grey emptiness attacks me, but then shapes and noises start rising. They form out of the chaos into what reminds me of an isoelectric line of life. It flows through me, entangled, jumping up and down, knotting into a bundle that cannot be dismantled, much worse than the one that Sparklight made of my shoelaces when she helped me get dressed. One that can only be cut to set the thoughts free… But I do not want to cut it, no matter how inhuman it seems. If that is an electrocardiogram vision of her life that I feel, I will let it be no matter how I’m frightened… And I know that I fear it, fear is creeping in, fear blended with her darkness. It is surreal, slow, overwhelming and dense… everlasting… Before I know it turns into panic, the line jumps up and down and my heart jumps the same. Pain, pain with white tendrils sneaks through my spine to my bones, to my stomach and into my eyes. Swampy, soily and strong, stinky, wet, flooding… I grab my mouth with my hand not to throw up, but I manage to withhold it.

I have to pump more blood into her, it makes the line to danse higher, I should be happy, it is pulsing, chasing the chaos away… The pain is strange, immaterial, it soaks in terror, attacking my world from its corners… Not my pain… not my fear… but it reflects me, it stings my anxious heart.

I’m paying back my dues. Is it what it feels like? Does it help when I do it?... Do I give her… relief? She is unconscious, I know it. I try to push off the lava with a conscious effort. I try to… fill her with white snow flowers and the path to my house, and the sun in the knag holes, and the shining of night stars...

The shadows echo through me. Shadows on a cave wall. Reflections in the glass floor. Lost fake memory circuits who speak in a language I don’t understand…

I gasp for the air heavily with my hands on my hurting chest, try to get rid of the vision. I can hardly sit, so I lean on her body until I lie down exhausted. I want to focus on her, on the white flowers and the morning sun, the cold biting my skin, the touch of my hand on her cheek… My battle may take a few moments but it seems it’s eternal. I kiss her dead forehead, stiff cheeks, and stone hard lips, imagining white flowers and night satellites above us. Then I just hug her metal head to my aching chest with a faint belief that my warmth can heal her... Where has her life gone? Come back, my Sparklight!

The shadows would not give in. There is something… more behind them. It blurs through, showing visions - the war-torn city of metal? Ruins of concrete and glass? Memories…? I focus… there are shapes that I know so well: continents, oceans, forests, highways, cities, nightlights. The line between night and day moving in an eternal cycle… I know this, I have already seen it… or not. Not this. Not precisely… I realize. The closer I look at them, the better I understand. The Earth is made of metal, the seas, they are not blue at all, the forests glitter like crystals, the highways hang in the air… the houses, settlements, cities… they wave in front of my eyes, obscure, hardly clear. Is it her world that’s transpiring? A memory of her past that I’ve stolen from her blacked out body?

I raise my head slightly to look into her half-open eyes. I am too afraid to close them. The symbolism is too strong… Instead, I think of white flowers. I think of the meadow where she kissed me, the forest we walked through together and the sun that’s shining above us. I think of the night view from the heights of my office and the rain-wet city map at my feet. I think of old Ingebjörk. Her hair was white as snow flowers…

I bite my teeth tightly together and pray to gods that aren’t there.  
To the empty sky and the white clouds.  
To fire and fish in the water.  
To empty pain and despair.  
To memory and forgiveness.  
To stars in the space above us.  
To all laws of infinite nature.  
To the light in my demon’s eyes and the galaxies within them.

I pray to love itself.

_Come back, my Sparklight!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rarely make author's notes, but after much struggle with this challenging story I would like to thank my friend and fellow writer [MirwenAnareth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirwenAnareth/pseuds/MirwenAnareth) for her tremendous support and many good advice helping to make my work better. And most of all, for keeping my motivation up when I sometimes stray into the lands of doubt.  
> Whoever loves Skyrim, her works, especially [The Name Lost in Time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13049436/chapters/29848440), are a must.  
> *Hugs*


	14. Broken

_She is my happy place._

 

* * *

I pin my eyes into hers. My blood escapes slowly into a well with no bottom. I can map its way through my veins and my tail that is now my own alien feeler. I am feeding her...

I would like to be stronger but I am weak and exhausted. How many days haven’t I eaten before she brought me the fish? All those days, she was feeding me to the best of her powers, while I neglected myself with most egocentric precision… Careless of the world, always expecting the worst, peeking over the edge of existence, prepared for the rite of passage, what good has it served for, stupid me?

The transfer is wearing me out, but at least something’s changed. The shadows are gone and I see again. My head is still swaying a little, but I keep holding on. I savour the real world... I see the wood of the walls and dryness of our bed of hay. I smell the soft scent of young summer… My heart’s calming down, beat by beat. Will she live? The connection is humming in me and I hug her again. Stay with me, _my_ _white flower_...

I look at the sun stripes on her frame. I stroke along them slowly, imagining she’s made of velvet. I never wondered really what I considered as beauty. But now… Now, it is so simple, it is her who defines perfection. She is gorgeous, delightful and graceful, for no clear reason, just like that. I can see she is a metal monster, I can see how people could fear her, or how they could be even disgusted, put off, scandalized by the way I adore her. But for me… it doesn’t matter. Her beauty is in my eyes, and it’s endless…

I watch her in contemplation. Her shapes gleam matte in the sun. I stroke her face praying quietly, whispering the words I made up. _To the empty sky and the white clouds..._ _To memory and forgiveness… To all laws of infinite nature..._ To the electric spark biting my sore fingers… I hardly feel it, but I see it… I see… If almost jolt up to see better. The dark grey metal skin on her face flickers faintly. Does it really? I shade my eyes from the sunlight and press my hand to her cheek. A delicate glint of life follows the print of my fingers. I *do* see it, I’m not dreaming. My heart jumps up to the ceiling. My robot girl…!!! She’s alive! The mix of my red human blood and the blue one that she gave me… it is bringing her life back. It is working!

I seek her throat artery and check her life status. It is pulsing rhythmically just like mine, slightly warmer now, becoming lively. Relief fills me with logic and it turns my brain on again. My mind, though tired, finds its way back the old tracks of rational thinking. What was that kept her alive when she was trapped in the building? Electricity...

I wonder how I could have neglected her so recklessly. I thought… I thought she had no needs. I thought she could just walk around like this, living on air and light. That it was only me who could be hungry, thirsty or lost… I have not even considered that cars and computers need power, flowers need sun and water, humans need food and drink… I pray silently that I have found the cause of her blackout, that it’s just hunger she suffers. That, if I charge her batteries, she’ll be fine, healthy again. She has been disconnected from any power source for quite a few days until now. She used her energy for my sake. She even charged my phone.

Yet, a small anxious fear-devil reminds me that she’s been injured as well. My palm still recalls the hardness of the cable pliers same as the dull resistance of her veins at each cut that freed her from the building… I also saw her blood leaking through the seams of her body that night when she kept falling. I did not realize it then, but it all must have really mattered. I grit my teeth and I swallow. I will deal with my short-sightedness later. Now it is time to do something. More than I’ve done so far.

Although I cannot be sure if she is sick or just starving, the best I can think of is to feed her, get her a real source of power that I might not have enough inside me.

I unplug the tail from her neck gently, licking of the blue drop that remained. I lie for a few more moments cuddling to her stone-hard body, resting, waiting for balance. I keep my fingers on her pulsing throat, making sure that the vein’s still alive after I have disconnected. It is, and it makes me feel better. There is a sense… of purpose I feel finally in my guts. I can now be myself: do something, sort it out…

I wait until my own system seems stable, then I get up on my feet. Black patterns float in my eyes. I need to lower my head, let blood fill my brain and nurture it enough to continue. The world goes circling around me and I’m trying to breathe deeply, allow oxygen in my veins. Finally, I stand straight. I take a few steps to the shed door (I know them so well already) and glimpse out to the calm late sunny morning to scan the landscape for clues.

A high-voltage powerline in a distance… I am not sure how to use it. The current might be too high for her circuits. I have no transformer, no rectifier, nothing… And how would I reach from the wires to pull the connection down as far as to her in here? I’d need kilometres of cabling that would not burn the grass down…

Old telephone lines - a bit better? Easy, low-voltage, safe, not that demanding… But then, would no one notice if I cut and deplete the whole line for a few hours? If current flows in it at all… Since mobile phones took over, would anyone pick up the receiver to activate the landline? These wires might well be dead all the same. And then again, bloody distance…

I consider how to take her there instead. Her long and slender body could not be carried without dragging her on the ground. If at all I would manage to lift her... Would I? Once I carried her in my arms already. When she still was a box. She was very heavy then already, and now in the ‘uncompressed’ version she is much bigger than me and not at all that handy. Anyone who ever tried to carry a fainted person knows exactly how burdensome they suddenly become. Even if you are strong and the other one is small and light. Sparklight is twice as big as I am. Is she heavier than before? It would be against laws of physics, but she seems impossible to lift… It was so hard to just turn her over. And, then again, me, am I weaker? Damn, I am such a weakling. I cannot walk straight without stumbling and the world goes around me as if I were drunk on vodka…

A car battery… it flashes in my mind suddenly. This is most realistic! Handy, portable, easy, safe. It may turn out insufficient, but at least it’s a good start, to get her to wake up and move, at least a little bit, to think of the big powerline...

The road… must be not that far away. I _remember_. I've seen it on a satellite image. Most secretly I hope I can just steal an accumulator from a parked, empty vehicle. I do not think I could borrow or buy one, lousy as I am at the moment. But I can always… bring it back when I’ve used it? Sparklight’s comment echoes in my head: - _Have you ever stolen anything? - I stole you if that counts…_ I thought I was smart then. So now it is time to learn better. Fugitives have to loot sometimes, don’t they? Thinking it’s less of a sin if you have a real reason...

There should be a small parking place, I remember from the pictures Sparklight showed me when we took our night ride across the satellite orbits. Maybe, if I am lucky, the owner will be gone picking forest mushrooms or fishing, and the car will stand left there, unattended…

Still, it’s better to look convincing. Not easy, to say the least. I glance at myself critically. My clothes are dirty and ragged. My back must be a disaster, maybe better that I’m not really able to see it. Some new spine blades have shown up since last time. I can feel them between my shoulders, almost up to my neck. Hardly cutting through my skin yet, but I know they are there already. Like a new set of teeth of a baby. Like new claws of a cat... Irking and itching my skin. They talk about their presence with every movement I make. I am becoming a hedgehog. The shirt is falling apart, the bra strap is almost cut loose.

I push the shirt into my trousers thanking the gods for the belt again. I try to put my long hair in order, brush it a bit with my fingers, but the skin on my palms burns me and I finally give up. Shabby and clotted, they would look best braided, but then the whole back would be uncovered, and this is the last thing that I want. I sigh. I have no mirror to check it, but well, that’s it, that’s about what I can do to look normal. Keep my tail hidden behind me, not let anyone see me and hope for the best.

I step back in the shed and check on Sparklight for the last time. I gather more hay around her and cover her until she is hidden completely. I pray that nobody will stray here and find her while I’m away. They shouldn’t, but I don’t want to take chances.

I look carefully again to check if the fields are empty. Then I go. I head for the road as I remember it from the satellite view. First tracing our common footsteps, among the fields, along the forest path, to the stream. I wade across it, knees deep, soaking my shoes in the water and slipping on slimy stones (there are no caring feelers to hold me). I glimpse at the bent grass where she was sitting. She is not there anymore…

Then I go further, among tree trunks, holding on, counting steps. Wounds limit my movements, loose stitches irk and scratch the swellings, but I just keep on going ahead. I stop only to catch my breath. My legs are dragging behind me, the greenery shimmers above me, the sun glimpses through the branches, long shadows cut my vision. Bushes hurt and burn my skin, just by touching. The clothes become annoying, wet shoes chafe my feet. Something warm leaks from my back. Is it the blood that I’m so short of? Or maybe it is just sweat? Black spots whirl in my view. I bite my teeth together and walk further. _She is waiting._

I finally reach the road with a mixture of fear and relief. It has not been a long walk but it took me ages. Cars pass occasionally as I lurk in the bushes, my eyes chase them, one by one. What am I hoping for? To stop any of them and ask the driver kindly to lend me what I need? Sell it to me? Exchange for my used mobile phone? I cannot let myself be seen…

I look down at myself again and scan my lousy clothes, dirty hair, bruised skin on my forearms… I take a better look and my eyes do not fail me. I am all bruised as if battered. Irregular dark patterns show on my forearms and hands. I turn my palms over… My fingers are a disaster. Burned, scratched and swollen, I did not realize so far how they itch me… I raise them in front of my face and look closer. Something silvery shines through the largest cut. I turn the hands down again, not sure if I want to see it. But my eyes slide to my tail and a great emptiness fills my mind. Echoing, dimmy, fearful, sad, eternal… as if time stopped ticking and I was no longer here. My hands explore each other without asking permission. I stick a nail into the open wound, right where I saw the silver shine through. It hurts like the fires of hell, as if I touched bone itself... I escape with my finger but I cannot help staring again. Vacuum fills me… And then I see in slow motion how trees become taller moving upwards, the ground level gets closer and closer, and my aching hands explode with pain in the grass. Gravity takes me over and I register, half-wary, how my stone heavy body collapses with a soft metal screech.

A low quiet moan escapes the depth of my throat and trees take a circle around me, bending over my head and then disappearing again. It could well be a strong wind blowing, a hurricane perhaps... A storm hitting the Earth right from the clear empty blue sky. But it’s quiet. It is so quiet and peaceful. Black petals of gluey blindness cover my face and clog my eyes, my breath is shallow and stifling, my heart refuses existence. I turn over not to see it, cool soil caresses my cheek, moist grass tickles my eyelids, it unites with my hair. I try to breathe calmly and deeply. I hug myself with my arms. The pain of the touch sobers me slowly. I try to float on the surface. I try to keep overground. I cannot pass out right now… _She is waiting._

It takes a few minutes to place life back around me. To get the trees where they were, to see the blue of the sky, to feel again that all this is real and my limbs have not floated away… Reluctantly, I clamber to four paws this time, not strong enough to stand, but still determined to move forward. I kneel down a few more moments, rebuilding the blood flow in my head. The lights of my brain turn back on thinking: what have I come here for? The car park. Go there. It must be close. What have I got to lose…?

So, I rise like a phoenix from ashes, every move is a small battle. Stubborn, I go ahead. I stride forward on bent legs, bumping from tree to tree, faltering, falling, and rising again and again. It cannot be far… I continue, almost crawling along the road in a safe distance, through grass that cuts me under, bushes that hit my face, light and shadows that blind me… What did I think I’d achieve?...

And then, as if in reward for my struggle, a light shines at the end of the tunnel. A little roadside car park opens in front of me and… there is a car. A truck actually. A rusty ambulance truck, standing alone in the shadow.

I crawl closer, trying to focus. Careful, with my limbs in check, I try not to make noise or disturbance that would reveal my presence. To make sure there is no one around…

I ask my tail for support. I listen to its sensations and sigh a breath of relief: no human smell and no movement. No sign of a living heart beating. Yet the truck seems suspicious. What is an ambulance doing here? There seem to be electricity floating inside it, and air flowing across... Isn’t it a bit like… Sparklight’s breathing?

I do not know what to think. Electricity means a charged battery. This is, after all, what I have come here for. This is the aim of my struggle. But there is something… I do not like about it. I cannot quite put my finger on it. The closest I get to understand is the feeling as if someone was here despite all clear signs that there is no one besides me.

I decide to make sure. I need the battery badly and this might be my only chance to get it. The time is also running, I cannot afford to look for another car if this one is good enough. Because, I may pretend to be tough, but I am feeling horrible. If I could, I would just let myself faint where I am sitting. Yet… Sparklight is back there, waiting… She is my sense of purpose. I cannot… we cannot be fainted, we cannot be dead, none of us.

So I bunker myself in the roadside bushes and decide to wait for a couple more moments. I watch the scene from my hiding. I put my tail on the lookout. A few minutes pass. Nothing happens. The car is empty and calm. No human presence inside it. Yet it does not seem to be cold either. It must have been used recently.

I cannot wait forever. I weigh my options a while. I need to hurry. The owners might be back any minute. I decide...

Holding on to a tree I get up on my feet and, bent down in half, I move forward. I approach the truck from the shadow trying to be stealthy and silent. I peek in through the front window. There is no one inside it. So I try for the hood. It’s closed. I move along to the forest side door, far from the sight from the road, hidden as long as it gets. A keyhole gapes in the handle. I pull it. Locked. The tail comes to aid again, how convenient. It almost looks at me as if it was a ferret, whispering incantations of magic:

\- _Hi Eva, this is how we are going to break in..._  
\- _Hi Tail, it seems we’re becoming friends slowly_...  
_\- Oh yes, you’ll start to love me when you see everything I can do. And you will forgive me all the pain, I promise._  
_\- Your pain, it keeps me awake_ (I cannot believe that I praise it).  
_\- Wait, you’ll see more magic than that. Sniff, sniff, what do we have here… Whoa!_

A lockpick, a passkey of sorts, a car key look-alike transforms out of the tail tip. Good, that’s what I need. I can change patterns on it. I play with the key a while. I think I am fascinated. Who did it? Mr Tail or me? Right. Whatever just happened... Let’s try out my luck, maybe finally, it’ll smile…

I stick the tail tip in the keyhole and try to maneuver inside it. Damn, not that easy. I try again and again, it feels not like a lock at all… The door just keeps being shut, something unnatural about it, intensifying with every second. As if it was sewn together with the rest of the chassis, grown together, as if the door was fake and the lock just a mock-up…

Then I realize… too late. The truck starts shaking like mad, growling from deep inside. The door opens fiercely and smashes me right in my face. I land squashed flat in the ditch. Golden and red stars circle around me and my snout screams of pain. I do not know where the up and down is. I lie groaning thin squeals, gripping my nose that goes loose and blood fills my mouth, warm and wet.

Thoughts run through me like a mad cat but my body yields in weakness. No adrenaline rush can save me. I cannot move from my place, my spine blades cut into the ground, entangled…

Damn, I knew this was coming. When will I learn, finally, to listen to what my guts tell me… I should have trusted my instincts… should I now fight or flee? I try to set myself free, crawl backwards in useless panic, no way to get on my feet. Stumbling and creeping again, on all four, almost blinded, dizzy, unable to catch my breath. While behind me… behind me… I more feel than see how a big shadow rises in place of the ambulance.

There’s no way I’ll escape… Last night’s dream flashes through me: he will grab me by my hide in a moment, he will squeeze me, raise me up over his cave mouth, bite me in half and swallow…

 _~/Sparklight… Forgive me, I failed you.../~_ My life darts through my brain. Birds, they must be singing above me, the sky, it must be blue, and the trees, will they hide me from the danger…?

“Well, well, well… What have we got here?” - the words lance right through my ears. I jolt forward once more, but Mother Nature betrays me. A branch, a bush, a tree seedling, stand in my way, heartless, indifferent… There is nowhere to run. I turn around very slowly. First I glimpse over my shoulder. Next, in slow motion, I see him: a big humanoid robot leaning right over me.

He... is... *huge*. He is the size of the nightmare monster. Next to him, Sparklight would be a slim ballerina, light and fragile... although yesterday night... she embodied the strength of the world and the power of all elements together. Yesterday night… I close my eyes feeling a gulp forming in my throat. _My Sparklight... She is waiting..._

I lift my head up, grip what is left of my shirt on my panting chest and press it to me as if it was something dear, something I have to save at all cost. And then I raise my eyes slowly and I look straight into his.

“Oh my God!” - I hear my voice gasping, while time passes frame by frame. Impossibly long and slow. The world must have managed to go the full cycle before I get to unfreeze, hit by a horrible pain in my fingers. My eyes slide astonished off from his finally. They stop at my own right hand to see how short and sharp claws rip out from inside my digits, tearing the flesh apart.

“Arrgggghhhh…” - my throat growls in rusty voice, completely out of control. It feels like someone pulled my nails out. I don’t know if I am crazy but pain keeps me awake. The blades on my back rise up next. Goddamned cancerous hedgehog spines… Sharp maybe, but yet so small, so pathetic… Helpless but battle-ready… against the iron giant above me.

He tilts his head to the side. His mechanical eyes grow big above me. I am completely stuck staring, and glaring - at my hand, at him, at his eyes… They are pure blue, bright and shiny, with patterns of clockwork inside them. They remind me of Sparklight… My head goes round and I start to see double. These claws, that are my fingers, they bite into the bark of a tree near me - to lift me, to help me up, unasked, unrequested… An instinct? Yet, this is too much to demand… My body weight drags me downwards and the next second I lie on the ground hanging on an outstretched arm, locked in place, trapped and hurting. He leans closer…

“Hey little one, what are you?” - His voice is rusty and warm. If I closed my eyes and didn’t see him, he could be just an old man. Kind. Normal. Completely human. I blink in disbelief. Am I hallucinating?

He ducks slowly next to me and glares at my tail and my hand.

He mutters something to me in a language that I do not understand. Though, it sounds strangely familiar. He seems to ask me a question but I do not comprehend it. I don’t know what he’s saying. But I should… Why should I? My fever, my pain and the dumb shaken brain don’t make it easier… He looks at my baffled eyes, sighs and speaks in my mother tongue:

“What happened to you, little fellow…? You look like you’d use some help.”

~/What?/~ I can’t get beyond thoughts… I cannot speak anymore. He’s looking at me, curious, puzzled.

His voice sounds kind and calming. I defend myself in my brain from this notion. He is a monster, an intruder, an aggressor… Is he really? He broke my nose with his door… while I was trying to get in.

“I didn't mean to scare you.” - he watches me breathe for a moment - “But admit, you would not take it easy if someone tried to break into you when you were taking a nap.” - he says it slowly, as if casual words could calm and tame me. Then he winks at me with his mechanical blue eye - “My name is Ratchet if that helps you. And now we need to get out of here before anyone comes.”

~/What? _We…?_ Get lost, leave me alone…/~ My thoughts push through into nowhere. Clearly, he does not understand or he does not hear it. He reaches out his hand towards me. I pull away in a desperate attempt to fend off, but I only jolt like a hurt wild animal caught in a bear trap. To no effect. I am too weak and it’s useless. He does not grab me though. He waits with his hand stretched towards me looking at my struggle, calm and composed, not rushing. I cannot do anything, my claw-fingers are stuck in the tree trunk. They leave deep painful marks in the wood. I give up, catch a breath staring at him with big eyes. He frowns for a split moment but then he brightens up quickly.

Do I really see him brighten up?...

“Try to pull them in, slowly, without moving your hand. They will let go of themselves” - he says and his voice is soothing. It sounds like damn good advice.

“Don’t be afraid, just focus, pull them in…”

And… surprised as I might be, I _pull_ them in. I fragging *pull* my claws in… My body slumps down released, but he grabs me before I notice, not letting me drown in the grass. In the same instance, his parts start moving swiftly, replacing each other, shifting… And in a split second or so I am lying on a soft, makeshift bed *inside* the truck that now I know is his body.

I hear something similar to an engine purr and I realize we are in motion. The truck, the ambulance, it is driving…

“Noooo” - I get to release a scream from my shrunken throat. I throw myself up desperately, but I fall to the floor - “Stop!!!!” - I cry in a breaking voice.

He slows down and halts in place.

“What is it?”

“Let me out”

“Out? You want out? Ok. Fine… But how will you run and hide in the forest?”

“I have to”

“Yep, yep, yep. That’s for sure… However... what do you intend to do next?”

I stay silent because I have no idea.

“No offence, but in the shape that you are in, how do you wish to do anything?”

“I have to go” - I utter again dazzled, like I have any choice anyway.

“Look, have you seen yourself?”

No. As a matter of fact I haven’t. I am not sure what I look like now. Probably Sparklight would know better… with her telepathic senses… _Sparklight!!!_ A feeling of guilt crosses my chest with a shiver. Only now it comes back to me that I came here with a _purpose_. And all I am trying to do is to run... He is a robot, like Sparklight… His eyes… Is he one of her own kind? Is there yet more of them here? _Ingebjörk would die to see it…_ Giant metal werewolves who turn into Earthly machines... Can he know how to help her? Is he a curse or a blessing…? Who can I trust more - him or people? There is no time… She’s alone, in the shed, unconscious… Can he… Is he my chance? Her chance…?

“Whatever you are exactly” - he keeps talking to me in that calm elderly voice - “you are sick and exhausted and your system is all in warnings. You’re gonna break down in no time if we don’t do something quickly” - I open and close my mouth in silence, decisions fighting within me, while he goes on with his preaching - “I can say this much already, solely by looking at you, meaty creature, you have to trust the old medic. We’ve got to bring you to a safehouse and fix you.”

“No, I am just fine” - I regain my voice finally and dismiss him against the obvious, mimicking Sparklight’s stubbornness. I ignore his vicious meat comment and I rewind in my head: _Did he just say_ _‘medic’?_

_...medic!_

I gasp with my open mouth and my decision takes itself fully. I’ll tell him… It’s now or never.

“Can you _help_ me? I need… _help_ ” - I utter the dreaded word which freaks me out so much.

“Well, that’s what I’m talking about”

“No, you do not understand…”

“What is there not to understand?”

“It’s not me… it’s my friend… She needs help. I came here looking… for something to fix her… ”

“Your friend?”

“She is… unconscious. She is like a… a broken machine.” - I whine weakly feeling how black spots start dotting my world again, taking away my vision. - “Let me out…”

He sighs or vents or whatever robots that pretend to be cars do with the air inside them. Then he opens the back door and I crawl out falling to the ground with a loud thump. Like a bag of old scrap, scowling over my hurt hand again. Funny how the back and the tail wound has become unimportant. I wish I had the cold stream to dip the torn fingers in, to extinguish the burning…

“She is a machine… you say. More like me or like you?” - he asks transforming to his humanoid form again.

_…Me? A machine?_

I’m not sure if I understand his question.

“I shared my… blood with her but it wasn't enough to wake her” - I say instead as I try to get up but I stagger and collapse again. I close my eyes, try to hang my head down and breathe deep. A vomit reflex makes me close to throwing up my own bowels. I grab my belly with my painful clawed hand as if this could keep the contents inside, of which I am not at all sure anymore. All odds against me…

“You did what???” - his voice suddenly rises, like if I said something gross or shocking.

I don’t have time to explain. I don’t have time...

“You said you were a doctor...” - I ignore his tone and utter through my nausea, putting all my hope and my begging into that one word of magic.

“Yes, I am a medic. Maybe you were quite lucky. Trying to help you… you know?” - his voice is back to normal. He looks over his shoulder at the empty road.

“Can you see her… please?” - I almost whimper collecting my vision and trying to focus my eyes on his face.

“May I give you a lift?” - he asks softly reaching out his hand again.

This time I do not protest. Well, I would not have the strength to object or go by myself anyway. He raises me very gently supporting me on his arm and shoulder. I falter, leaning on his chest, even if that’s the last thing I intended. Every touch makes me hurt but I can’t imagine walking.

“Now, show me to your friend” - he says with his elderly voice - “we’re gonna have a fixing day today”

* * *

 

We arrive at the shed so much quicker than when I struggled through the forest alone, drained of my life forces. We scarcely talk on the way. I am falling unconscious and waking up again, swaying in his arms in the rhythm if his long steps, confused, trying to fight the fainting. He is careful with me, he must see I’m in pain, his hands are stained in my red-blue mixture of blood already. He only looks at it but does not wipe it off or comment.

Finally we go inside. He hardly squeezes himself through the barn-size door and he puts me gently down on the ground. He kneels beside the stack of hay where I hid her. She’s lying there peaceful, calm, still. I gather my remaining strength and start digging. Hay straws stick into my torn hand, painful, making me look like a scarecrow… He gestures me away, then he uncovers her smoothly, with a few precise movements of his big, gentle hand.

I glare at him and at her in turns, with a beating heart and fearful eyes. I see how his face changes and mechanics in his eyes work intensely focusing on her, scanning her up and down.

“Is she your carrier?” - he asks after longer silence.

_...my carrier?_

“I… don’t understand” - I say baffled. He shrugs and looks at me, clearly doubting.

“Yeah right, you don't speak Cybertronian either… And you have this sick human skin all over yourself” - he grumbles and I almost regret that I fetched him. But when he looks at me his face is caring - “Do you connect to each other? Does she feed you from her system?” - he asks finally in an explaining tone.

I touch my neck, and his eyes follow. I feel my cheeks turning red as if he asked about our bedside habits. Can it be that it’s normal and there’s nothing special about this connection we shared?... Yet I blush anyway.

“Yes… She does… I guess” - I feel my face burning and I lower my gaze.

He nods and does not reply. He lifts Sparklight from the hay and places her flat on the ground. Then he examines her - first with a diagnostic tool that he miraculously transforms out of his arm (I would be shocked if I had not seen her doing the same before), then he checks her chest, her head and her limbs, like a real doctor in a hospital. Any time he touches her body my hands tremble in a defense instinct that tells me not to let anyone have any physical contact with her. Because she is _mine_. Something very possessive keeps shouting inside me - _It’s my Sparklight! -_ and urging me to make him stop, not even to let him get near her. I withhold my reaction with the strength of my will and the weakness of my body. I just tremble in my whole frame trying not to let it surface. I simply let him examine her, my hands itching to pull him away. _She is mine and only mine to touch..._

Finally he looks back at me and says in the same calming tone:

“Don’t worry little one, your carrier will be just fine. But you brought me right in time. She’s almost starved to death. No access to enegon for years… We will need to move over to the medbay to put her on external circulation and to do some more tests. She’s almost completely drained.” - then he looks closer at me - “We should feed you too little sparkling, but I am not sure what to give you. I will figure out something, she is in no condition to provide for you anymore, and this human part… I have never seen anything like this...” - his face shows concern as if he was trying hard to remember something. - “Did I hear well that you reverse-fed her with your own energon?”

I nod cautiously and I keep silent as I am not sure what to think.

“You might have actually saved her life… It’s very noble of you but dangerous and foolish. I do not recall anyone… any symbiont… doing that since the times of the great wartime hunger” - _…a symbiont?... symbiote? Venom… Me, Venom? No… what? Wartime hunger… Ingebjörk, those words, her past memories of hunger, I remember…_ My world makes another circle, this time inside my head - “Mhm. Now we have you close to starving too. A few more minutes of this altruism and you’d be offline like her… Although… with all that soft matter inside you, you are quite a riddle to me, honestly. You can digest human food, can’t you? Maybe that is the way… Amazing, amazing… Such a hybrid!!! Dear Primus… I wonder...” - and then he continues murmuring to himself in a weird language that I do not understand. Yet, something in me knows, he complains about the boundaries of science, and uses some swear words too.

_...how do I know this?_

I feel like saying that it is all the other way around. I actually am a *human*, to whom something strange happened and I only recently acquired this metal part and the blue thing circulating in my veins. Yes, I can eat human food, and this is all I had ever eaten till the moment I met her, if I can name her feeding ‘eating’. In turn, I would like to know how it coexists with my body because it seems to poison me slowly…

The thought process gets me tired enough not to respond at all. I only look at him with weary eyes, saying nothing. He does a couple of other things around Sparklight. I can see him meddling with her body the way I would never dare. He pulls aside her front armour, he touches her with his hands. He opens different parts of her insides and shakes his head over them. My fear and jealousy are screaming, they boil inside me like oil. It feels like someone was touching my dearest wife, my virgin daughter. I have to force myself in place, containing instinctive reactions. _He is a doctor…_ I explain to myself. _He knows what he is doing… I have no other choice…_ What do I know, anyway? We’re both at his mercy, and what else can I do? I imagine I’m at least supervising. This eases my tension a bit. _He said she would be just fine…_

He’s continuing the check-up, muttering to himself quietly in his language. He glances at me from time to time, I’m sitting still, tense, waiting. Despite encouraging words, his face looks worried. And I can’t help wondering why.

But he remains mostly silent, save for his quiet grumbling that is not meant for me. Finally he locks her chest armour back and I almost breathe with relief. He turns her over gently and reaches to check her back. He starts with her arms right there where people have shoulder blades. He unlocks the hard layers and moves them gently to her sides. I cannot see from where I’m sitting what he uncovers there under. But… I can see his face changing. Abruptly, as on command. And I can hear a very deep, human, sigh.

“Dear Primus” - he says to himself and I lose count of the languages he uses. But the tone of his voice is too telling… Enough to move me from my place. Enough to freak me out for no apparent reason. So I crawl in closer, to see what he’s staring at.

She’s lying naked. At least that’s how I see it. Face down, her bare back to the ceiling, long wings spread apart, a bit away from the body. Her slim waist even slimmer… Her armour is open and folded like accordion bellows on the sides of her chest. I don’t know how he did it, doctors must have their ways, obviously robot medics likewise. And although I don’t know much about it, time stops when I see what he looks at. I can fairly say that I know her skin already - I’ve seen her face, naked chest and her glowing belly, a masterpiece of creation composed of myriads bits and pieces fitting each other perfectly, hard and soft at the same time, structured close to ideal... But this… I would have never suspected…

He does not yet see me looking, he’s focused, leaning over her, checking, analysing perhaps, trying to understand? I keep silent. My whole body freezes. I forget the pain in my hand and press the raw claws to my chest…

No wonder she could not fly…

No wonder her wings were hanging idle… useless…

I grit my teeth and the muscles of my face contort. Tense skin pulls the broken nose and it hurts me. My mouth is full of blood that I swallow. It makes me want to throw up, maybe the sixth time today already.

But I cannot take my eyes off her.

I keep staring…

It is a _war-torn city of metal_ that unveils. Is it what I’ve seen in my nightmare? The skin on her back and shoulders is ruptured, almost gone. I can still see it used to be there, some time, maybe long ago. Bits of it are still holding in place, but nothing fits anymore. Nothing is whole, nothing healthy. Everything’s scarred and uneven. Cracks between imperfections are filled with a parched, scabbed blue layer of dried blood. I know, I have seen how it dries, when she still was a box and I brought her to the factory in my arms. Was it the reason why she was bleeding when her body refused to obey her? My fallen angel… _my white flower…_ I should have hugged you then, in the night… I should have stopped you from trying…

Something strangles my throat. I cannot pull my eyes off her. What… what is it that I’m seeing? She never whispered a word. Who’s done this? How did this happen…?

Her shoulders… Sole logic, laws of physics, tell me there have to be levers and strings, muscles and tendons, to push and pull her wings… Well, there is something, that once might have had that function… but this is all just too wrong, too impossible, too broken...

All her careful, well-measured movements stand clear in front of my sore eyes. Most of all her night transformations, when stubborn - and God knows, how stupid - she tried, again, and again, to raise up from the ground and to fly… What for… to ruin herself to the limit? Didn’t she feel it?

I clench my fists till it hurts me. My claws are by far too sharp… It is… it looks as if someone took a metal slab fitted with spikes, or a thick sharp wire, and kept battering her right on her naked back and shoulders, until he broke her to pieces… Chopping her skin to chunks, crushing her fragile mechanics, destroying her beautiful structures… Until he butchered her wings’ hinges, too hurtful now and too broken to let her rise up and fly. And then he closed it, locked it down inside her, as if it never happened.

How did she manage to turn and carry me all the way from the factory to here? How could she play with the grass in her fingers, and touch the veins on my forearms, and cradle me in her wings without hurting? Her arms hardly moved even then though. She always relied on her feelers…

The understanding of pain floods me with a hard-gripping cramp. I should have known that, I should have… I saw it in her eyes, her face told me that when she lay next to me, my mechanical claws feel pain all the same... Any doubts I ever had are long gone.  
My bowels twist.  
I keep looking.  
I keep holding my breath.  
Until I choke deep and exhale.  
I almost swallow my tongue.

~/Sparklight!!! Sparklight… my loveliest werewolf… my sweetest white flower… my wonder… how… why…/~

Only then he sees me glaring.

“Hey, little one, don’t look at this” - he moves quicker than I gasp, and he cuts the view of her destruction away from my sight. He tries to gesture me back, but I don’t want to follow. _She is mine…_ He looks at my skewed face and continues - “It does not look nice, it is true” - he says in a voice that he wants to sound calming - “But I am sure, I can do something, just not here. I need to put her armour back on now, and take you two to the base, where I have proper equipment… Do you know what happened to her?” - I don’t think he believes I’ll answer. I am so stunned that I’m voiceless. I gather myself for a while. Finally, I shake my head slowly.

“I… I had no idea…” - I mumble with my dry mouth, wooden tongue - “But her hands… She never used them… Did someone… hurt her? Why? What motherfucker would...” - I end up hissing through my teeth, paralysed, but my voice fails me.

He gazes at me thoughtfully and then asks, still thinking about something:

“But you may know this: Did she used electric power grid for feeding?”

How on Earth does he know that? He must be truly a medic…

“Yes… I guess so…” - I answer uncertainly.

“No fresh energon in years” - he repeats as if to change the subject - “I have to check better, but these burns… they are so very strange… and scarcely a life signature. I thought it was yours, actually!” - he turns to her closing her armour, locking the horror inside it. - “Where did you two live together?”

“We didn’t… She… I found her stuck in the building… the one I worked in. Under the floor of our datacentre, next to aircon machinery… like… she was grown into it. She asked me to seek her out and release her.”

“What do you mean grown into…?”

“Connected, with local cabling...” - I say tired not finding words.

“And you?”

“I work… worked there”

Then finally he turns to me and gives me a new kind of attention.

“You _found_ her...”

“Yes… I found her...”

Full focus on me.

“You mean you were not with her before?”

_...with her before?_

“And you were convinced you were human?”

“I am human!” - I gasp for air - “I changed only when I found her…”

“...since when has this been going on?”

“For a few days, maybe five…?”

He leans lower towards me, his eyes focused, attentive.

“How did you find her in that… building?”

“She was talking to me in my head…”

I’m sitting on the ground, as good as dead, drained of power, painful and terrified, with the view of her smashed naked back, waist and shoulders engraved under my eyelids. I cannot see clear but I’m trying. My head would not hold in one place. It falls like a lead filled balloon. I am a swollen-face zombie, trembling and sick in the stomach. I grab myself by the belly not to vomit (again), while the world turns around backwards.

“May I have a look at you now?” - he asks in a different tone looking at me even more worried.

I gesture my fainted approval. Why would I care eventually. He stripped Sparklight naked already, and look what he found in the end... And can I feel worse anyway? He reaches out to me, mumbling his magic spells to himself. Then he says something louder but I don't really hear him or understand him too well. I can see his lips moving, I can see his hands taking the bloodied dirty rags off me… Stripping me naked just like her… I do not protest, I cannot argue, I’m fading, and my senses are switching off one by one. I do not feel his touch, although I still can see it, as if I were looking through hot desert air waving in a far distance. The last thing I see is how a big slice of my skin peels off from my hand and forearm going off with the shirt sleeve… There is no longer a hand at the end of my forearm but a bloodied metal skeleton topped with five clawed metal digits…

Maybe it’s just a dream after all. My heart goes into one last panic surge in an uneven rhythm but I am already on the other side of a glass pane cutting the air off from me. Multiple dark flames in front of my eyes change to black holes and there is no use fighting the blackout. The world disappears and I am no longer there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me. This chapter has a melody to it, and it is the melody to blame for all its imperfection (no, it is me for real). It sings in my head with a rhythm, that I cannot get rid of. I re-read and edited it over 10 times, but the rhythm took over, all the languages I speak overwhelmed me, and for once, something made me get lost in its meaning. It all feels like nausea that Eva suffers from in her transformation. I will amend it for sure, maybe in a few weeks, I may perhaps sober up. Now it is time to go forward, how much can you repeat the old mantra? Intervals, accords, tempos with breakdowns, atonal distortions. It seems to be hurt and broken. The way Sparklight's back is broken. Nothing is in place, and it cannot be fixed just like that. Not by me, not now. It is magic. When I look at this chapter my reason just floats away. I do not see sentences, just notes.
> 
> To the empty sky and the white clouds...  
> To memory and forgiveness…  
> To all laws of infinite nature...


	15. Wake Up!

_I am drowning in the sea. Waves push my body around. When I was younger I used to lie afloat on the surface of a lake and my body was light, drifting… I looked at the sky above me and it was blue. Now the sky is pitch black and my body is heavy. Much heavier than water. I will not stay afloat ever again. I am drowning…_

 

* * *

 

**Wake up!**

Beep...peeb beep… peeb beep… peeb beep…

Tick tock… tick tock… tick tock… my life is ticking away.

_Sparklight… Who are you Sparklight? Who are the gods that brought you to me? I am not one who would let things go easily. Not that I never tried or wanted. I just can’t… I fall so easily into wells with no bottom, but then climbing up takes ages… Now you are my well of depth. But I don’t want to climb up this time. You fed me, I can’t let you go. I desperately cling to you, like ivy. To the idea of you. To your essence. I… want to give it back to you. This and just one percent more. Or maybe two. Or infinity…_

 

* * *

 

**Wake up!**

Beep...peeb beep… peeb beep… peeb beep…

Tick tock… tick tock… tick tock…

I hug into something soft and smelling of her. I take a deep breath and her scent fills me with the softness of her glowy skin hidden under the armour that she opened for me… the warmth of the curve of her neck where I hid my face when I burst in tears back in the meadow’s sun… I feel as if I were falling deep inside her again and sweetness escapes my mouth with a soft purr.

My consciousness is vague and the greyness inside me dissolves slowly. I try to open my eyes. They are sticky and dry. My body is heavy, too heavy to lift a finger... I do not know if I exist and if I can give clarity a second chance again.

Clarity?

* * *

 

**Wake up!**

Tick tock… Peeb beep...

I don’t have a measure of time. The world is so grey and flat. It looks like the one of the monster… My senses are dim and blurred. I try to hold on to something but there is nothing but the soft smell. I wrap it around me and don’t want to let go. The world is shattered into a million shards of a mirror, and I am floating there naked, wrapped in her smell only, prone to the sharp glass edges stinging my skin, bleeding me in blue, cutting across my bowels…

I am drowning... in an endless grey sea of nothing, no surface, no sun above me, no bottom below me...

 _::::::w:::e::::::a:r:::e::::::a::l::l::::::d:::e:::a:::d:::::i::n::::t:::h::e:::::s::h:::a:::d:::o:::w::::::z:::o::n:e:::::::::::r:::u::n::::w:h:i::l:::e:::::y::o::u:::::c:::a::n::::::_ :

I am drowning…

Tick tock… tick tock… tick tock…

Beep...peeb beep… peeb beep… peeb beep…

 

* * *

 

**Wake up!**

Beep...peeb beep… peeb beep… peeb beep…

I am falling head down. I almost see it smash to a pulp of bits and pieces when I will hit the ground. Fear grabs me by the throat in a strong grip for a moment but it lets go as fast. I am not falling, I know it. I am just feeling this way. The feeling, it is not real...

Beep...peeb beep… peeb…

The beeping speeds up just once and then it comes back to normal. I’m sure Sparklight would notice… Sparklight sees everything. Sparklight feels everything… Where is she?

~/Sparklight…?/~

~/Sparklight…!/~

~/Sparklight…/~

I cannot move… It is just the pillow’s softness and numbness of my limbs that sway me, I’m not hitting the ground. I seem to be alive…

What was I fearing? Was it the pain or the end?

 

* * *

 

**Wake up!**

Out of the sheer nothingness, I start hearing voices. Hardly audible at first, they are reaching me from a blind distance. They are alive, they are human… They speak.

“.............feeding a symbiont” - an elderly male voice floats to my ears. I remember that voice blurrily but cannot place it.

“Honestly, I have no idea how ………….. but …………..she ………. the both systems. Her heart is…………..., and she breathes with the lungs but the air is ………. .… see here?” - an unknown female voice joins in. Soft and gentle…

Where am I? It seems like a hospital… All that machinery beeping… And the medical smell… What happened? My memory doesn’t want to work properly but it is unlocking slowly. Recollections drip through me, drop by drop. I might well be dead if I can trust what memories tell me.

I still do not feel my body, although I know it is there. The voices whisper above me as I am trying to breathe.

“... mutation… ……………………………………. … .. …… when she wakes up….”

_…. mutation… yes, I mutated. I have a tail and a hand of metal. What else do I have?_

_I’d rather be a mutant than a deadman…_

“…check on the Decepticon?” - there’s a slight harshness in the man’s voice.

_...decepti… what?_

“You know, you shouldn't call her that……………………….” - the woman seems disapproving - “So what? She is a seeker, but she seems to be different than most others, she is so small, so fragile, and she ain’t got any markings either………….. … she might look a bit like them, but she could also be…………………, one of the ancient…… … ……………….. you told me that already.”

He laughs shortly.

“Small…” - he sounds as if he shrugged - “so what’s the difference? Since when are you an expert on ancients, since when are you a part of our war?” - the man’s voice is sarcastic but strangely fond and gentle.

“You taught me enough, your bad, I am just using your logic. She is a ……………………. and a carrier, that’s for sure, and a surveillance-class flyer frame, like a drone or a satellite… ……………………. don’t glare at me like that, I just have this good feeling…”

_...a satellite… CosmoSkyMed, RadarSat, Sentinel… satellites are my guardians, silent observers of life. They must have been watching us making love there in the meadow, me and her, us both together, shining in the light of their radars, metal against the wet ground of soil. And we thought we were alone…_

A real breath escapes my mouth in a deep sigh that even I can hear.

I cannot move.

“Is she waking up?” - it is the woman asking but he dismisses her insight.

“No, there is no such option. She’s powered down and unconscious. She will not online for long hours, if not days” - his voice is that of a mentor.

“You forget she is human too, humans don’t power down the same way. Humans can’t easily be programmed unless they program themselves...” - I’m not sure what she means exactly, but her voice smiles and she must be looking at him.

“Yep yep yep, you might be right as usual. Who am I to know… humans...” - I hear that he trusts her judgement, I hear that it’s beyond his logic, and hiding behind his harshness he clearly looks up to her. How can I *hear* it? Maybe I imagine? I listen… - “Primus, if I could only say what she really is… Does she know herself? She was one bundle of confusion, focused only to save the Decepti…. you know, the seeker, like if her life depended on that. There’s no other way, the seeker must be her carrier.”

_...a seeker? A seeker of what? These words that they are using… He must be speaking of Sparklight, I’ve heard the word ‘carrier’ already… He’s not wrong about one thing at least, I have no clue whatsoever… I wish I knew so much more. Does Sparklight know any answers? She said she remembered nothing..._

“Ratchet, the war is over. Even if she was a Con… what difference would it make? You don’t even know her at all, she seems not to have belonged to any of the sides……….”

_...the war… the war comes back all the time. The visions of war that haunt me… war wounds, where did I see them? It feels painful but I cannot recall it._

_And then, that name - Ratchet…_ enlightenment strikes me like a lightning (I wonder: will it beep louder, no it doesn’t, why would it… am I at all alive?). He is the ambulance robot who smashed my face into pulp. I woke him up from a nap, he said… Good excuse, me, a midget, an insect, and him, few tonnes of living metal… So they can *sleep* after all… I can’t stop random thinking, but yet things fall into place, like pieces of a messed up puzzle, one by one, beep by beep, counting my heartbeats that I hear more than I feel.

Yes, it is him. The robot doctor… and the seeker, it must be Sparklight. And the symbiont they mentioned… is it me?

What is a symbiont? It sounds scary...

Where is Sparklight?

What happened?

The beeping speeds up negligibly for a few split seconds but then it calms down again. Sparklight would surely have noticed… They don’t seem to listen at all.

“You’ll need to talk with her when she wakes up… but please, be gentle with her or reasonable at least” - the woman’s voice is asking kindly.

“Sure, I will talk with her, I will talk with them both… For hours or more if needed. When she’s in the condition to talk and if she wants to talk at all…”

Sparklight and talking do not seem like a good match… She would not use her voice, I believe, unless it’s strictly required. And would they understand her thoughts? None of them seems to hear mine...

I wish… I wish I could wake up from this stupor, this inertia, I wish I could tell them, explain. I wish... But I have no body. I cannot give them a sign, I cannot move even my tail tip...

A moment of silence follows, disturbed only by the beeping that runs forward, calm, silent, resilient, slow. It is so bluntly even, rhythmic and undisturbed, as if I were not awake. Or maybe is it not mine?

Am I alive?

“Let’s hope” - he continues a bit bitter - “that despite her likeness, she’s not taken after that freakish glitch Soundwave. She looks like they drew from the same pool of genes.” - the last words are filled with acid and give me a bad feeling of dread. Who are they talking about? It does not sound friendly. I had that vision… that nightmare… But then, why would I dream it? I never believed in dreams...

“By the way, no news about him? Not that I am really curious but…”

“Keep your enemies closer…” - he sighs - “yeah. Nothing new that I’ve heard. Out of radar since the groundbridges collided.”

“So, it might be really true then…?”

“Shadow zone… it’s somewhat likely, but never really for sure… But if so, I’m not jealous. He would be better off dead.” - his voice is a set of mixed feelings - “Anyway, them Cons… They got what they deserved… ^^&%^#^b^%&@&#”

 _...did he just say ‘fuckers’_?

I hear her sigh in the background. - “Even so, you still don’t know who she is, remember and don’t be so grumpy in case I am not around when she wakes.” - she seems now to be like a school teacher and a guardian angel in one. But this whole talk gives me creeps and I do not like it at all… Anxiety sneaks under my skin. _My Sparklight, are you safe?..._

“I’m not Shockwave to be a bastard and break into others’ minds” - I hear disgust in his voice. But he *does* listen to her. Everything she says seems to be holy, even of he disagrees and protests. He knows his own truths, but he listens... Who is she?

“Of course you are not” - she says, this time much softer - “and anyway you can’t do it. And you wouldn’t, _you are too good for that, Ratchet_ ” - the last words flow with fondness saved only for somebody dear.

“Am I too good for that... June?” - he replies to her in a soft voice, still trying to keep some strictness that dissolves into warmth.

“You are… You’re such a grumpy cat” - she chuckles fondly and I imagine they must hug. Is she also a robot? A beautiful flower of metal, like Sparklight? June is such a sunny name. A promise of summer like a meadow with waving grass, dotted with blue and red blossom...

“At least you don’t call me doc” - his words sound gentle, almost tender. I can hear that and I can feel that she *hears* it too. They are like an old married couple who know a lot more than they say.

Silence falls for a moment and my thoughts cloud together, the feeling I have is weird, it comes from them, it’s not mine… Is it… do they… have those fields, that I can sense around Sparklight?

“You know Bill would call you that” - it’s a soft chuckle again but something in it is broken. Something falls apart and the world loses colour.

“You’ll not say a word to him, you promised” - he sighs and his voice sounds old again, embarrassed, lonely perhaps… Badly hidden sadness vibrates in some of the vowels and I know already, they did not hug, I was so wrong.

“I won’t, at least not now, but you know, if something goes wrong… There are things I cannot handle myself. I don’t want her dead and you know it. And I cannot let his trust down, the same way I will not let down yours.” - still, she must be a flower or a morning bird. She conveys so much meaning just by the sound of her voice. She comforts him and explains, and she keeps her spine straight, she puts everything in place… at least a little. Things sometimes are never in place… some things are just in opposition and there is no place for them at all. Is she like Sparklight? A demon?

How do I even assume these elaborate scenarios, if the only things I can sense is just smells and sounds? I do not even feel my body… I do not feel my pain…

“We will manage.” - he says, straightening out his voice back to normal - “And then later you will talk to Bill. You see, I got this.”

“*We* got this” - her voice smiles again, correcting him with no malice.

“Yes, June!” - he can’t help the soft exclamation - “*We* got this” - he repeats after her.

They stay silent for a while, disturbed only by the beeping.

Beep...peeb beep… peeb beep… peeb beep…

“Ah, one more thing. In case I am not there… the human… she must be fond of the seeker. Take that into account.”

“You noticed that too, already? You two did not even talk.”

“Well, partly you told me yourself, but I would still like to stress it. I noticed… She talks in her sleep. She keeps calling someone. The name is ‘Starlight’… ‘Sparklight’… ‘Stardust’… something of that sort. It sounds like a name of a seeker, weren’t they given such names? And some other things that she said… never mind what, but just remember, don’t be too harsh on her, you know.”

_...she warns him again… to handle me with care? What’s really wrong with me? Have I fallen apart? Do I talk in my sleep? Do I call her at night? Am I that easy to read?..._

I feel the heartbeat inside me… It is so strange… and so dear… to hear Sparklight’s name pronounced aloud by somebody...

“Never heard of that name.” - his voice sounds somehow distant and the machinery is so loud. It disturbs me… I want to hear her name said again. But the harder I try the less I can hear, save for beeping…

... _Sparklight…_

Beep...peeb beep… peeb beep… peeb beep…

~/Sparklight/~ my thoughts repeat louder across the beeping and ticking, looking for a way to her mind. But there is only silence.

Beep...peeb beep… peeb beep… peeb beep…

“...Sparklight...” - I whisper, my lips dry, I can hardly move them, but I still manage to get the air out.

Have they heard it? Are they there? I should feel their attention. I should smell their presence. I hear nothing but beeping. I smell the soft sweet smell of my pillows and sheets. Smell of numbness and comfort and fear. Smell of her unconscious body. Have I been dreaming again?

“...listen, she’s said that again” - finally, I can hear the woman saying in a low, quiet voice - “It was ‘Sparklight’… now I remember. I think we shouldn’t be talking here. We may disturb her rest.”

“You’re right June, let’s go, we’re done here, let her... sleep.”

_...no… noooooo… please don’t go now… please say her name again… don’t leave me, wake me up, I need to tell you..._

The door clicks closed behind them and they are drifting away.

“See, no Decepticon would use such a name, even if they have been given...” - the voices fade into greyness, but I can still grasp that much.

“June… Nobody’s on the _dark side_ in their _own_ _perception…………_ _Everyone’s cause is the right one and their truth is *the* truth”_ \- his voice is now really distant, but his truth is more than close. Ingebjörk could have said that… My head feels so heavy, the pillow’s so deep, soft and so stifling...

“Say that to the mankind...” - is the last I hear of her.

I try to move but I’m helpless. It’s a miracle I can breathe. Or maybe, I’m not really breathing? There’s something humming inside me. Murmuring silently, rustily, as if I were getting old. Flower petals are falling…

Why don’t I feel anything? I have all the emotions but they are locked in a box. I see it behind my closed eyes. Its edges are scratching my soul and its weight’s burdening my mind. I stand above it and stare. The box is of silvery metal, it is locked, floating in the midst of nothing. All my feelings are inside it. My senses are locked in there too. All that I need is an opening sequence of pulsing binary lights. It comes to me from the grey nowhere…

It blinks number by number, and my head sways around. I wish I could understand it, I’m trying to remember, repeat it, but I can’t. And then it becomes just one line, a complex line of a heartbeat, black on the background of white.

I am drowning...

_011011000110111101110110011001010110110101100101011001010111011001100001_

Beep...peeb beep… peeb beep… peeb beep…

Beep...peeb beep… peeb beep…

Beep...peeb beep…

Beep...

 

* * *

 

**Wake up!**

Beep...peeb beep… peeb beep… peeb beep…

Tick tock… tick tock… tick tock…

The beeping of hospital devices permeates the silence, like dripping water in a dark cave, almost speaking in voices, ones I do not understand. They’re ticking my life away…

Tick tock… tick tock… tick tock…

I open my eyes slowly. It is dark. I lie a few moments glaring at the air and the ceiling above me. How many times have I done it already? It’s like a recurring cycle… And though I do not even see what’s above me but I’m sure the satellites are still up there in their orbits. Do they guard me? What kind of roof houses me this time? Am I awake or still dreaming? Where am I?...

My eyes slide across the surrounding darkness (I can move them!). I recall people talking but I can’t place them in time. I must have drifted away… Am I safe? I take a deep breath and my chest rises up filled with air. I can feel it. Finally, it’s there, it exists. Pain. I can also feel it but it’s distant and blurry. It is wrapped around me like a soft fluffy blanket. Pain is something I know. It is there, marking the boundaries of my body against the world. It means I have a body…

The darkness glows green and yellow. I slowly turn my eyes looking for the source of light.

Beep...peeb beep… peeb beep… peeb beep… there are two screens in the darkness. Each of them shows a different line of life. They flow forward, slowly. They seem to measure my time. Tick tock… tick tock… tick tock… One of the lines is jumping up and down in a well-known sequence that I have seen many times. The pattern of my human life… The other follows its sister, but with a slight delay. Its shape is different but regular. Unknown. Alien… I breathe a bit deeper and they both react. The surge is almost negligible, but strong enough to be noticed. In perfect sync…

Cats have nine lives, do I have two? One human and one unknown? Or is there someone else lying next to me? My tail sniffs around, I’m alone. I got its senses… my senses back, thanks to all gods of the universe ( _the gods that aren’t there_ ). I got myself back. I lie alone in the darkness, in a dim light, staring blindly… I *exist*.

The beeping machinery drowns in obscurity. I try to feel myself, the presence of my body. Deep senses tell me that I am stretched flat, anchored, although my frame is still drifting - floating like in the water… or maybe in the air? I feel into my fingers and toes. Into the tip of my tail. I map the shapes of my chest and my back. They are defined by that slight, dull and fuzzy pain. It spreads out not far from my core, and this is where I end. I end where the pain ends... I try to move my left hand. It is there. I raise it a little, still hidden under the blanket. It would work seamlessly if just not for the hurting… I raise the right one in turn and I know it is different. It feels better and stronger. What else is there in me, different?

The lines of life beat slightly faster. Why are they two? Are they really both mine? One line for one hand, second one for the other...

I peek along my body that is veiled in the shadow, covered with a warm blanket, wrapped in white, fresh-smelling sheets. A spiderweb of pipes and cables hangs from both sides of my bed. Their ends sink under my covers. They must be connected to me.

I try to raise my head and, surprised, I can do it. There is no more resistance than the one that comes from the air, the wires and cables that hang attached to my limbs, and the weight of my sore body... The pain is dim and reluctant, it clings to me like ivy. It tells me that I exist... My life radiates around me, floating into obscurity, like an electric field - spreading out from me to the universe. I release my relief in the form of a deep sigh. I guess I am even happy. I’m happy just to be…

I cannot lie idle forever, so I decide to do something. I raise myself slowly, carefully, helping myself up with my elbows. It takes some extra effort but finally I can sit up straight. My head levels up with my body after some short delay. It is amazing to feel it. Almost as if I were flying… It’s just so many pipes and wires that drag along me… I seem to be tangled in them, tied to the darkness around me, but still, there is this strength within me…

The blanket falls off my chest. I am dressed in a simple, white nightgown. My hair is hanging loose... So clean. So neat. Am I dead? Did angel wings grow on my back in the meantime? Not wings, but hedgehog spines more likely… I should have them somewhere in me… _I remember_ …

The nightgown hides my body, I cannot see what I look like. I raise my both hands slowly. One fleshy and one made of metal. The metal one is covered with gel or rubber, transparent but solid enough to feel like skin. Is that the kind of skin that was so soft on Sparklight? No… that is yet something else… I can see the structures inside it and they surpass all my knowledge. They are a miraculous wonder. Almost like Sparklight’s body. The gel is soft but not slimy and it lets all sensations through. I trace my new fingers with the old ones. They feel almost the same. Same touch signals travel through my synapses. Is it really the nerve system that feels them? Is my grey matter still inside me? Or do I have electric circuits overgrowing my brain?... Am I still a human…?

The metal hand fades into bandages a bit above the wrist. I wonder… was that necrosis that took over, did my skin just die out? Was it the wounds and burns that caused my body to reject the old shell? What makes my left hand still human and right hand alien already? Am I bound to that change? What have I started becoming? What have I become already?

I stretch out my arms fascinated. The web of wires follows my movement. They seem heavy. They drag me down a little, but my power is greater. I pass my hand over my neck. As I expected, I am connected. I touch it, there are two thick, pulsing pipes. _In and out_ … I trace them into the darkness and wonder what would happen if I unplugged them. Would a stream of blue splash on the floor? The blue, it shall not be wasted. The lifegiving blue… or is there red too? Transfusion? Blue blood mixed with red blood? Attesting my _dual nature_? The human-alien fusion, the mutant that I have become…

There’s only one thing I am sure of. It all begins to be real. It can’t be a dream or a nightmare. I *am* what I see and feel…

~/Sparklight/~ I call her within me. She must be around here somewhere, they were saying… they were calling her strange names. Where are you, my seeker, my carrier, whatever that means for me?

Silence replies to my summons.

~/Where are you, Sparklight?/~

I should get up and seek you. My eyes swipe across the screens, and the pipes and the wirings. I should get up and go to find you: by your smell, by your field, by your heartbeat...

~/Sparklight, I promise/~

I promise her for the _hundredth_ time. _I remember…_ I don’t know what I promise and what is the power that tells me that this is my cause and my purpose. My cause that is *the* right one. The darkness is so dense and oily. And the only thing that disturbs it is the sound.

Tick tock… tick tock… tick tock…

Is it my life passing?

~/Sparklight… what am I?/~

Did you know this when I first met you? When you first saw me… back in the skyscraper, through your camera eyes… Back in the depths of the real? Did you do it on purpose? Or were you as lost as me? Why have you picked me of all people…? Did you know I would fall for you so easily while all the others would reject you? Are you the Phantom of the Opera who bound me in fascination of the unknown, that made me a part of you, together with the chains that tie me to you, same as these pipes and these cables…?

Sparklight, my Sparklight, my demon, my spark and my light… what is that your name means? Why would the _dark side_ reject it? Are you a heart and a light? The light that you glow on me. That light…?

My eyes stare at the screens. They blind me and my head drops down, heavy. My body slumps back to the pillow. I will lie just a little, I’ll rest before I go searching. I did enough effort for this minute, it is all somehow too much for me. I turn my head to the dark side and glare at my metal hand. My eyes’ gentle blue glow reflects in the skin-like glossy surface. Maybe, even, my face reflects in it, but I just cannot focus. I wonder what’s up with my nose that was broken but I have no strength now to check it. The pain is so dim and so distant… It dilutes in the air…

Next time I get up, I will find you.

I promise… for the hundredth time.

The lights go out one by one and my eyes switch off. I guess I am powering down. Or am I just falling asleep?


	16. Mirror

_The need to fall apart completely and then re-collect yourself from the smallest shards and pieces into a whole new puzzle…_

* * *

 

**Wake up!**

_Sparklight… where are you?_

It feels like I am in a loop. I have been through that before… I know, she is not here, yet it makes me sweat cold to realize again that it is not her soft belly I fell asleep tucked into. It is a pillow. This time it is a pillow, not summer-dry hay. Hay? I try to unblur my thinking. A pillow? Have I smelled it before? I swear I smelled it already.

This all does not make much sense. Where the heck is my Sparklight…?

Well, she exists, doesn’t she?

_< Reality check… in progress  >_

My body feels wet and it’s chilly. It’s like if I were at home, in my micro flat with its walls, plants, books and pictures. Having nightmares as usual. This is what my therapist once told me, this is how it is supposed to work. Your brain runs through the bad stuff over and over again until you’ll work your way through it or until you break... You may want to forget, but under the cover of the night, you keep having useless flashbacks of shit that refuses to hide under the carpet where you swiped it for safety. It creeps out like a snake, right into your bed, uninvited… unwanted… Under the sheets, into the pillows, into me, to freeze me with wet fear and disgust… But _it will pass… it will pass…_ she said. Eventually.

_< Checksum for input data: 6c6f7665206d6520537061726b6c6967687420  >_

But Sparklight, she is not a trauma. She is my wonder and blessing. She’s the one… She made me forget for a moment. She made me not regret any moment. She made me… She is… where is she? Do I _remember_ things, or were they only a vision? Was Sparklight only a dream…? No!

_< Processing… … … … … … … … …  >_

The line of life on a night screen, medical apparatus… I had that nightmare already, many times more than just once. The line, it was always different. Never really the same… The patterns were crazy, inhuman, entangled, beyond all physics, all logic. And I remember the panic. It scared the soul out of me… Was it my life that was pulsing? I wanted the line dead and flat. The nightmare would not pass even when I woke up. I could walk around the flat, turn the lights on, make some tea… even talk to myself… The mad line, it lived beyond me, even when I was awake. The more alive the more frightening. Up and down, back and forward, up and down, peeb beep, tick tock, aaaaaaAaAAaa as… if… the... only way to stop it was to… cut it… No!

_< Processing… … … … … … … … …  >_

This was until I met Sparklight.

Until we both connected. Click click, she invaded my carcass… She fed me with her blood and her thoughts… Click click, I became hers and she became mine…

Then I penetrated her system… click click, my tail docked in her neck, my soft wet human tendrils slipped into her robot spine, my blood filled her veins with red... Click click, I took her line of life over. Peeb beep… Now I have two…

_< Processing… … … … … … … … …  >_

Can I be more scared?

Can I be more sacred?

Or is the dream really over? Sparklight!

_< Processing… … … … … … … … …  >_

Wake up!

_< Checksum for output data: 6c6f7665206d6520537061726b6c6967687420  >_

I jolt up and I sit straight abruptly. Everything’s calm but not me. The memory comes back and it floods me. I _remember_. Her stone cold body and that life-line in my vision when I was feeding her with _myself_... Kissing her half-open stiff lips and praying for her to the sky…

My heart is pounding like a church bell, my gaze is blind, my throat clogged.

_< Verification successful  >_

“Sparklight!” - a half-articulated groan leaks out of my mouth clearing my throat in a hoarse cough full of gooey fluids. A round of nausea turns the world around me in one grim stinky sway.

_< Reality check status: passed  >_

_***End process***_

“Huh?” - a woman turns around and everything comes back to existence. To my surprise she is human. A tall, slim brunette smelling of cleanliness and spring flowers. I cannot see her face clearly because the world is still in a whirlwind, but my tail gives me data I would not imagine to retrieve otherwise. How could I have seen things so precisely in the dark of the night, and now I’m blinded? I gasp for the air and then I breathe deeply.

In no time she is with me pushing my body down gently, to lie in the bed again. Her touch is soft and it places me in the world somehow. I am alive and my limbs exist. I feel her hands on my chest and shoulder. She seems to be a real human, can it be? What is it that she’s wearing? A white-green apron… Is it… a hospital where they accept mutants? Or maybe all that was a dream, and I just woke up from a coma? No. I have my tail for sure (it… he speaks to me). And her smell is the same, I _remember…_

When will I finally stop doubting?

I feel pipes and needles pinned to my arms and chest… I try to open my eyes wider, but the tail tells me more. She stands above me and says something, shows me four fingers, asks a question, but I don’t pay attention. A face four times as big as hers shows right behind her. It is not a human face but an alien robot mask that has an expression of worry and seems totally unreal, but yet deeply familiar. This is him… Ratchet, the medic. The one whom I met on the road, in the form of a car. He brought me back to Sparklight. What happened after that? What did I see precisely? The war-torn city of metal… I cannot place it too well, but it gives me cold shivers. Something blocks memory inside me, I struggle for a moment but nothing comes, so eventually, I focus on something else.

I’m in hospital scenery. A windowless white room with tube lamps under the ceiling. A medic and a nurse… Is she a nurse or a doctor? A human or a mutant, like me? Nothing much can surprise me. I remember their voices, their gentle softness revealing more than words could say. Why have I paid attention to that part so much? Is it my crazy hormones longing for Sparklight’s presence that write affection into all lines that I hear and speak…? Am I cursed or stupid?

What is this world that I live in? Everything I knew before doesn’t matter. A deep sigh escapes my chest. There’s only one thing that’s important, and it’s not a *thing* at all…

“Sparklight…” - I utter from my dark depths again, as if I were programmed to do it.

They both stare at each other for a protracted split second that lasts long enough for me to notice.

“You’re safe. Your… friend is taken care of. You need to rest now.” - it is him who speaks first to me in his calm elderly voice.

“Where is she?” - I utter coughing and choking as I push the voice through my throat to the world. Lying flat does not serve me and I try to sit up again. The cables and my dead weight drag me back down to the bed, I am heavy as a sinking ship, but something urges me strongly. _I promised…_ I have to go find her, ensure…

“Hey, no need to get up.” - this is the human woman now. June… Her voice is like sunshine - “You don’t need to worry. You will see Sparklight soon. You *need* to rest first, you’re sick.” - she persuades - “Your body is under stress.”

_...stress? Stress is because I can’t see her. I need to go…_

“But I…” - a wave of phlegm-filled cough drowns the rest of my words.

“You are… transforming.” - Her hand keeps me down to the bed. It is warm and gentle - “We don’t know exactly how and why… Your endoskeleton is re-forming to graphene and metal, and you are shedding your skin. Your organs are under strain… they are changing” - she must be a goddamn doctor, they always speak like that, without telling you nothing but yet scaring the shit out of you. I eye her. She looks kind but it frightens me. It wasn’t so when I heard her last time through the coma… It was her, wasn’t it? My mind makes a circle.

“Is she here? Can I see her?” - I force the air out from my swollen lungs. At least the cough passes and I can speak somehow...

“She is near. She is safe.”

My bones relax a little, but it doesn’t soothe me. She smiles apologetically. I try to force my eyes to focus. The wires and dressings annoy me. I cannot move freely, tied in their web. It itches and vexes me greatly, I feel like tearing them off.

“Can I see her?” - I ask stubborn, my voice strained and rusty.

They look at each other in silence. No answer comes straight away. This is too much for me, the greyness is kicking in, but I don’t want to sleep. Until I see her...

Maybe I can feel for her… field? Presence? Heart… beat? The tip of my tail is hanging from the edge of the bed. I try to focus on its signals, I close my eyes again, to reduce the amount of data beyond what’s necessary... And I sense her… smell. Now not in a dream anymore, but completely for real. I can detect where it comes from, through the door, to the left… They did not lie, she’s not far. I map my way to her, tracing the smell, double check…

_< Location data: computing… … … … … in progress… … … … …  >_

_< Verification: successful.  >_

_< Mapping shortest path: established.  >_

_< ***System warning: locomotor failure detected***  >_

_...what? Nevermind…_

_< ...manual override  >_

My brain refreshes too slowly, but I gather my strength. Well, it is now or never. Before the girl and the robot can do anything I jolt out of the bed with all my might, feet onto the floor. But my legs don’t hold my weight and my hands grab to the bedframe losing balance and dragging everything with me. The metal frame moans deeply, responding to my madness. The world goes upside down, a loud rumble follows and I’m on the floor with everything on my back like a snail shell. A spiderweb of cables and wires tangles me, one of the screens sways from its place pulled off from its table, and only by sheer luck it’s not falling right on my head on top of everything else… I freeze in my movement. The bed pressing my back is heavy. Blue fluid is dripping all over me from a torn pipe ripped clearly out from my neck… My bones scream achingly…

_< Locomotor system status: 23% operational  >_

_< System warning: external energon supply disconnected  >_

_< Spark output status: minimum… CRITICAL WARNING  >_

_< Emergency system halt… in progress  >_

_No!_

_< ...manual override  >_

_< Reloading system defaults… … … … … in progress  > _

_...what?!_

_< ...manual override  >_

_< Kernel panic … … … forcing system shutdown  >_

_…da fuck????!!! No!!!!_

_< … manual override >_

What is it I have just done? The two of them stand there glaring. I stare back. Then I watch as the medic leaps over swiftly with lightness unexpected in someone so giant. He grabs the faltering screen before it starts falling for good. He picks up the torn pipe disconnected from my neck, squeezing it to block the blue flow. He puts everything away safely, turns off something to stop the leak, then he covers his eyes with his hand and I hear a deep sigh.

“Haven’t I told you June?”

“Yes you have, but I thought…”

“Good Primus, what have you sent us?”

“Let’s better help her up, I can’t do it myself. She’s too heavy.”

_...are you talking about me…?_

I look around with a mad gaze, I try to move but I can’t. I’m trapped in the bed’s metal framing, dressings torn, cables ripped out… Forearms bleeding… But maybe only now I am sober. Finally sober. I slump lower. I made an idiot of myself and achieved... nothing.

“I’m sorry… I just need to see her.” - I whisper - “Then I can go and lie down.”

They look at each other with meaning.

The robot medic sighs again.

“Listen” - he says finally - “You will see her soon. Now she is not in the shape to have visitors. Nor are you in the condition to walk around and visit others. Calm down, relax and trust me.”

... _what? Don’t be joking… I have relaxed enough..._

“No, I trusted you already…” - I can hear my own wary voice.

“Yes, and you do not precisely have a choice” - he replies calmly, but to me, it sounds like a threat. He’s looking into my eyes without fear. It makes me realise exactly how small and fragile I am. Just like a normal human. It is really not fair, if I am going through this transformation hell why don’t I became a large, strong, angry bulk of metal? A deadly killer-monster, a dangerous, huge and frightening machine? No, all that is happening to me makes me look even weaker, a rotten zombie freak with everything hurting. What is in it for me…?

_...what is in it for me?_

I thrust my body up in a next hopeless jolt, but instead of setting myself free I only make things worse. I am entrapped in all those cables and rubber pipes, some still pumping stuff into me and across me and out of me. Foreign stuff, alien stuff, weird stuff...

He throws his arms in the air and then he facepalms again.

“%$^f@)%%^e^(^#&@^f^e... Stop it!!! Stop breaking the equipment!” - he snaps as if I was some aggressive teenager not knowing what I was doing. My teeth grit and my fists clench tightly on the metal frame of the bed that I hold on to, crushing it in my grip.

“Why don’t you just take me to her…”

“She’s not in the state to see you!”

“I’m in the state to see her!”

“You are out of your mind!”

“I am…”

“You two, stop this please, now!” - it’s the woman. I look back around to meet her eyes.

“No, listen” - it is the medic - “ _we don’t have to do this,_ we don’t have to do anything for you, I could have just left you to rust or rot, whichever of the two you prefer. There are nicer ways to talk with us than by throwing your bed over you and spilling precious energon all over the place. Your Sparklight is alive and healing, I promise you will see her when it is possible, but this is NOT now. Making a mess won’t change anything, have I made myself clear?”

“Ratchet…” - the woman frowns at his preaching - “I told you, just try to understand her a little...”

“Understand what? This?” - He gestures towards the destruction.

“It’s like someone forbade you to see Optimus when he was...”

“June, aren’t you going too far? Nobody can compare...” - he falls silent looking at me, and his blue eyes turn a bit greyer. I know it already from Sparklight, it means sadness. I slump lower to the ground, dragging the wires with me, pressed with the bedframe from above and pinned to the floor by the heavy weight of my dysfunctional body.

June says nothing to that, but she approaches me slowly, stoops low near me, unfearful of my stupid wrath, and starts to dismantle my self-inflicted prison. I sigh. I feel like an idiot. Her hands gently unwrap me from cables. Her movements are confident but careful. I give up. I do not fight anymore. I feel my body is weak and it all just doesn’t make sense. And she is kind… She is kind like spring flowers, like the sun in a meadow. Like moonlight, like the sky…

He joins her to help me up from the floor. I am a bag of stones in the skin of a jellyfish. I can burst any moment spreading my contents around. I feel that even when he helps me up, his fingers leave prints on my body which will turn black and blue in no time. God, what have I become…?

They clean up the rubble around me, while I stay silent, obedient. It takes them a longer moment, while I sit patiently, not able to do anything else, with the hardness of the chair and my internal structure biting my ass through my useless remains of flesh. At least my back isn’t hurting, it seems transformed already, smeared with that transparent jelly, I reckon, that gives me comfort, not pain.

He leaves the room after a moment and I’m left alone with her. June…

She is about my age. She looks kind and sensible. She has no metal tail. Maybe she is just a human… Has my world stood on its head? I try to remember myself from the office. The serious, the hardworking, the reasonable… I feel stupid. Now I’m a teenager again. Or maybe I’m one for the first time? Have I ever been young before? Now I am a _girl in love with a robot,_ like in that Royksopp song…

It makes me behave so silly, all the hormones that buzz in me, I can hardly believe it. It is as if I’ve lost it completely over the past few days… Looking at her, June (the nurse or the doctor), I’m ashamed of myself. Why am I not as wise, as professional, as I have always been? Why do I act so insane? She works with him, Ratchet the robot, it looks like it’s normal for her. They are friends (or whatever), they talk like all normal people. So she must find Sparklight normal too. And myself? Am I a riddle to her? What can she tell me? Does she know what happened? And if… if they want to help us? For real? Trust has never been my strength… And me, pulling off such a show… Miscalculated attempts doomed to failure, as if I’ve lost my brain. I look at her back and feel foolish. Or maybe human again.

I don’t really have to trust them… But maybe I can find out… Without revealing my thinking? When will I finally grow smart? Maybe now is the right time… I stare for a few moments longer, finally, I break the silence:

“I… am sorry. I caused you problems.” - she stops for a while and looks at me, curious.

“It’s ok. No problem… you were in shock. How are you now? Any better?” - she continues her chores, cleaning the mess that I made.

“I… I wish I could help you clean it.” - I try to come across as friendly, composed, useful...

“It’s fine, just don’t strain yourself.”

“My name is Evangeline” - I utter - “I haven’t introduced myself…” - I sit on that chair like an idiot, ashamed just of the fact of my sole existence. The truth is I can do nothing… I’m lame. Stripped down to the essence, to my weakness, to the white piece of cloth on me and a wasted sad face… - “Evangeline Falk.”

She turns around, smiles and reaches her hand out to me. The first moment I do not understand, but then it comes to me - it’s a handshake. I shyly reach out with my mech limb. I hold her hand delicately, remembering how I squished the bedframe. Her handshake is light as a feather, although it’s far from dead fish. Maybe after all I am stronger than I think... I slide with my eyes to the bedframe which is still bent in that place where I grabbed it, though the bed is now back on its feet.

“June. June Darby. Nice to meet you, Evangeline.”

“Eva… it is enough with Eva” - I clear my throat and continue - “I can’t believe myself what happened... It’s such an awkward story, I even don't know where to start.”

“You don’t have to, really.” - she shakes her head and continues working - “You can tell me when you’re ready if you feel like talking at all. There’ll be plenty of time for that. Ratchet told me how he found you. I guess you were lucky it was him, not anyone else. Also because she… your Sparklight has been so... wounded… He really knows what he’s doing, and I know you’re upset. But you can trust him, believe me, like no one else on Earth. He’s just a little bit crabby.” - she flats out the sheets on the bed - “Thank God it turned out this way. Your life signature was stronger, despite that you’re mostly human. He found someone stranded and went to check it. He did not expect to find *two* of you...”

I look at her in silence, digesting.

“He found me? I thought I found him…”

“It was no accident he was there. We… they… can detect signs of life. _Their_ kind of life...”

“But… I am human...”

“Eva…” - she drops the pillow in place and crouches at my white-veiled knees - “I don’t know what you know about yourself and I fairly know nothing about you… But… You have undergone a mutation. You are partly human, but you have got so much of them in you… I’m trying to understand that too...”

“How is all that… Are you… same as me?”

“Do you mean, half-Cybertronian? No… I am just a plain normal human. Nothing in me is made of graphene or metal, and energon is not my thing… Although I tried it once, and it was rather awful” - she chuckles softly and I like the sound of her laughter.

“What does it mean: Cybertronian?”

“You really don’t know what it means?”

I shake my head - “Sparklight has never mentioned... I doubt if she knows it herself. I think she’s lost most of her memory… She is… so lost and alone...”

“You’re worried about her, aren't you?” - she first looks down at my feet, only then she raises her eyes.

“She is…” - I lower my head shyly pinning my gaze to my knees - “She is important to me” - I look out for the dust in the corners - “We are…” - I cannot say it. I don’t know what we are - “We…” - I have a mess in my mind. My head weighs heavier than ever. I lean it down in my hands. And then I feel it… My nose… is gone. Mostly. I almost jump where I sit. How could I not have noticed it so far? How? There is a big square dressing in place of my nose and the face shape is weird. There is something, but… it is not me.

“My face…” - I pass my hand along it up and down.

“Wait a minute, I’ll be right back” - she says with that nice voice of hers and walks out without explaining, as if she trusted I wouldn’t do anything stupid again. And I won’t. I am too preoccupied with what I’ve just found out about me. So now my face is disfigured… Did I… did I ever think I could go back to the office? To the people? To Martin and Kirsten and others… A tail could still be concealed. A hand could be put in a glove. But my face… my face is gone…

She comes back shortly with a mirror. A square of silvery glass. She holds it in front of me and I look at it in disbelief.

“Cybertron is where they come from.” - she says observing my face as I stare - “It is their world, their planet, far away in Andromeda, the neighbouring galaxy, you know…”

I nod, of course I know. At least Andromeda… - “We are still not enough advanced to detect life that far away… And… it is not common to consider life without water.” - now I am really curious.

“Right, they do not need water… That is why you are so strange. And her… your Sparklight… There is something about water in her…”

“?”

“Her body… accepts it inside it. She can use it, process it. That is exceptional if at all possible. Ratchet can tell you more. In that, she… is closer to humans than any Cybertronian we’ve heard of.” - she smiles at me. I tilt my head.

“For a moment I thought… I was part of an insane experiment…”

“No wonder… In a certain sense… you might be. If I only knew more... You both seem to be hybrids… of an unknown origin. Ratchet does not like to admit it because he cannot explain it, but it is what it is I guess.” - She stops there and watches me thinking while I don’t know what to say. Sparklight? A hybrid? A mutant? And water… I say nothing. - “I don’t know what to tell you.” - she finally continues, holding the mirror before me. _And in the mirror… there is me._ \- “Even, say, if you both are, a part of someone’s experiment, it is not ours at least. I guess you just have to believe me. I cannot prove it to you, but you’re safe here. Maybe safest on the Earth.” - her words are complex but simple, straightforward, protective and scary, though I do not yet fully feel the threat. She confirms and rejects fears that nestle in my deep denial. The mirror looks at me ominously.

“Space trip?” - I swap themes insecurely to change the topic that frightens me - “How did they master that?… Even for light itself, it would take to travel over two million years from Andromeda to here... ”

“Teleportation. Don’t ask me how technically… I don’t know. But they know how to bend space and time to create portals...”

“Does the… our world know about them?” - I stare blankly in the glass pane that she’s holding.

“Some governments know. The government here, some members of your Glorious Union, some of the powers of the East, way beyond Borderlands too... The whole top world seems to know. They’re good at keeping secrets, but you know… Secrets… are relative. I and some little people know too. By accident or on purpose… What’s done can’t be undone.”

“So everybody knows, yet it’s a secret? How Sparklight did not find out? She had all the web at her service…”

“Maybe she did not know what to look for? You say she’s lost her memory… if she did, then… well. It is an Area 51 sort of a thing. Common knowledge lies in nobody’s interest. The internet is cleansed from it on a regular basis. It is a miracle that they manage, but the reality we live in makes things so much easier to fake. Most news is a hoax anyway… They, Cybertronian people, made an impressive though small scale mess here a few years ago as part of their own civil war they brought to the Earth with them. They may be able to bend space for travel, but turning back time is still out of their hands. As well as some sorts of wisdom…” - she sighs - “So it got renamed to the ‘nuclear accident of Nevada’. But well, if you could see that what happened… It’s nothing like Chernobyl or Fukushima… only a fool can get cheated. Well, Ratchet will tell you perhaps. I have my own opinion.”

“Dear God” - I stare in her mirror and almost forget that it’s me.

_...Nevada… holy shit Nevada…_

“Now, that their war is over and they are almost gone home, we try to keep it that way. Peaceful. But there are surprises sometimes. After all, Earth is fertile in resources and people are greedy. People or creatures, whatever you call them. I got used to, so, well…, they are people to me. As any… And now… you showed up in the picture. Experiment or not, you’re alive *and* still human…”

“I… I do not know anything.” - I sigh deeply looking at her - “I just woke up one day… and _there was Sparklight inside me…_ ” - I shut my mouth the same moment as the words escape, looking scared at myself. My quasi-face replies with the same expression and I can see my mouth covered with my fake metal hand.

“Where are we now?” - I ask quickly, knowing the answer already. I feel my tail end twitching. The Tail knows. He knows...

“In Nevada Nuclear Exclusion Zone. It’s fairly peaceful and safe out here.”

“Exclusion Zone… of course. What is the date today?”

“It is Saturday, May the 14th.”

“It’s been…”

“Almost four days since Ratchet found you.”

“How did we get here? It’s the other side of the globe… Can he fly too?”

“No… You traveled through a thing called ‘groundbridge’. A low energy portal, same as they use to travel space, just very small and short-distance...”

“Teleportation again… nothing more should surprise me...” - I sink my eyes deep into the mirror. I see what I see there and…

I want to see more. It is time to face it.

She traces me with her gaze as I grab to the chair’s backrest. It creaks quietly when I try to get up. My feet feel squishy and the skin on my soles suffers from my weight. I reach my hand down to the bottom of the white nightgown that I am wearing.

“May I? I would like to see myself… whole” - I look back at her and she nods.

“Should I put the mirror here for you and leave you to do this alone?”

“No… I do not mind… You must have seen me naked before, already. You know what I look like...”

She nods. - “Yes, I have... it would have been hard to avoid it. Your clothes, I got them here, but not sure if they’ll fit...”

“It's no problem… Stay please … and help me?” - I choke the word out, then I smile shyly and shake my head. Where have my long speeches gone? What happened to my lame preaching of hidden meanings behind nakedness and clothing? There’s no hidden meaning this time. All that I said then to Sparklight, in the sun, on the meadow, does not apply to June. Though, hypothetically, it could… I pause and think for a second - her eyes are beautiful and smiling, her hands are gentle but strong, her silhouette slender, attractive and her voice vibrant and warm. But it doesn't change much in me. I still belong to Sparklight…

Maybe that’s due to the remains of the feeling left by her tendrils inside me, her blue blood in my veins, her sweet kiss residue on my tongue, or her addictive smell and her whispers that caressed me in dreams. Maybe it is June’s white nurse attire and her kind professionalism or maybe it is the grumpy Ratchet’s sudden soft fondness when he was speaking to her… Maybe it is this strange love that I carry inside me, unclear, lecherous and strong, who feeds on me like an alien fetus, rooted deep in my guts, leaking and coating my skin… like water… the substance of life… dressing me, shielding me... Maybe all that keeps me immune…?

I am not much more than a _thing_ after all… I can - I will just pull this dress off me in front of her and feel nothing but the surprise to see what monstrosities I may house there underneath. No shame, no reluctance, no problem.

But technically it is not that easy. It’s hard to move in my skin. It’s like someone covered me with dried tree bark or very tight, rigid rubber. Like things inside me were all moving but the outside kept them locked... I recall the struggle with my clothes at the stream bank in the forest - it feels so distant and easy.

It is hard for me to stand straight, my body is disobedient. I try to let go from holding to the chair backrest but I almost lose balance and I have to grab it again. I cannot even manage half way to get the white dress off me with one hand. None part of me seems to obey me, my body doesn’t oblige.

She looks skeptically at my struggle for a few seconds, not more. Of course, I will not ask for help again. But then she puts down the mirror, leaning it against the bent frame so that I can still see a bit of myself. She takes a step forward towards me. She looks at me and nods slightly, as if she sought confirmation. Her eyes are beautiful and human. I catch a glimpse of the mirror and compare our faces… my brain still rejects what I am seeing. But she, too, she keeps looking at me, seeing the same horror, and she does not seem to be scared or put off at all. Not a glimpse of disgust has passed her face since I first saw her. How does it work for her… Is she used to?

She does not ask any questions. Maybe she knows that if we talk too much about it, my automated instincts would react with an immediate rejection of any further support. Me, myself and I, the egocentric egoist, I have to manage, alone, no one shall help me, no one shall even touch me… I’m surprised I asked for that in the first place. Help?

Instead, she just comes closer and helps me. She touches me, in that neutral way, so typical for medical personnel who perfectly know what they are doing and for whom the body of a patient is a just a *thing*, like me. One, that you handle with care… but still a thing, an object. She raises my nightgown, draws is up, helps me to free up my arms, one by one, slowly, not to hurt me, not to cause me more pain than needed. She holds me from faltering and falling, even though I must be heavy for her, and finally she puts the white ghost made of fabric on the chair next to me.

My body… My body reflects in the mirror. I swallow, feeling how my throat is dry and I run my mechanical hand along my old-new shapes.

I’m wrapped in bandages that cover much of my surface, a look-alike of a mummy, but it is clear that I am a mix of a human, undefined animal-robot-something and a zombie.

I did not have to undress to see that I don’t have a proper face. Yet undressing made me see it… better. I have one but only part of it is mine. Part of my real face is gone.

Part of my face is *gone*.

The left cheek that was smashed with the door of the ambulance is almost no longer there. Or it is there, but it’s… silvery grey, like Sparklight’s, covered in the same jelly in which my hand is wrapped. Fake silicone skin perhaps… Which feels like real skin to the touch. The nose is hidden in dressings, maybe part of it is still there, but it looks much too flat and I don’t want to think what hides behind the bandages’ white. Maybe a naked hole in the skull that must be as lead-silver as new my metal cheek…

What looks at me from the mirror is half a face of the monster from the subway window, from the dream… Silvery dark, mechanical, with sharp, rectangular edges gleaming from under the gel, making my blue-red clockwork eyes look more than unreal, shining genuine light. The human side that remained is greyish and bluish in shade. The border between the two is hidden under a stripe of a band-aid. I freak out just to think how it will feel to tear it off together with bits and pieces of my old skin.

My lips are still soft and human and my tongue still lives inside my mouth. How much time do I have left to kiss Sparklight, still being me? To preserve things as I know them? Is it the end of me-human? I don’t want it to be lost forever… All the sensations, all the touches… I stroke my robot hand again and it feels normal though strange. Does Sparklight feel things the same as my mechanical hand seems to? Do we all feel the same? Robots, animals, people… Creations of the universe. Children of the black skies and stardust, wonders of the dark cosmic space. Shining eyes lurking in infinite wells’ bottoms, each of us there alone… Everyone doomed to failure, everyone destined to death...

“Eva?” - June’s face is right before me - “Are you alright? Do you want to sit down?”

_...Godless particles of time..._

“Eva…” - her hand’s on my shoulder. The ugly, bruised, naked shoulder revealing strange shapes from beneath… Her other hand’s holding a tissue, wiping a tear from my cheek. White tissue, made of paper… She has no glasses, but she’s kind… And she will leave me as everyone. The doctor’s appointment will be up and she will leave me to me… _June, thank you for all your kindness…_ My stupid hands tremble slightly. I do not want tears to fall. All my life I lived without tears, now I cry every second day. Why… can’t… I… hold… on…

“I’m fine… I’m just fine… I just… I’m just shocked to see what I am…”

She hugs me close unexpectedly, saying nothing, without any warning at all. She doesn’t bother I’m naked. She doesn’t bother I’m ugly, rotten, disfigured, inhuman and sad.

Like it was something normal, the most obvious thing on Earth. She just holds me close for a few seconds then she lets go gently. She steps away… But not more than a step, she is here, and she does not apologise for her kindness. She is here and…

“Do you still want to look in that mirror or should I take it away? You do not have to take it all at once…”

“No, stay please, with the mirror… I think I have to know anyway. Denial is not what I want” - though I am still ears-deep in denial.

So she raises the mirror to show me the whole of myself.

The hair still grows on my head, stubborn, persistent and soft. It is long, hanging down to my breasts which are also in place. My beautiful human breasts… am I too, bound to lose them? Following Sparklight’s charm? A strange bad thrill passes through me. That cancer that eats me alive, it takes me away bit by bit… I want to keep my hair, my breasts and my beauty… My beauty - defined by simplicity, endurance, agility and shape. I never cared for my looks or clothes or style… Maybe this is the first time when I even think of the word ‘beauty’? Is this a punishment for my arrogance? Was I too self-confident? I thought that if I’m trained in hardships, my body would last forever. It served me well though I made a device out of it. It was easier this way. I ignored its weakness, sicknesses and its technical flaws. It was a machine to serve me, unnoticed, my structure that carried me through life… Existing to make me go on. It may be the first time ever that I spared a true worry for it. Now, that it’s disappearing, now that it’s falling apart...

But I can see well already how everything is misshapen. Is it the hug she gave me that makes me bear it at all? She is like the nurse from my school, who put gentian violet on my knee… Someone who cares for a slight moment, genuinely, and then moves on with their life, but I will remember that gesture. I will _remember…_

I see how the metal beneath my skin is gaining shape taking precedence over flesh. This skin will be shed soon, just like the one of a snake, and I will emerge anew, a butterfly from a cocoon… or a plain ugly blowfly from a maggot. Sooner than I imagine... The bandages and dressings prevent me from seeing too much, but it feels like the battle is pointless. I can see enough not to recognize some bits of me anymore. The new parts emerge here and there, where I had bruises before. They are hidden by the jelly something, but I can see through it already, it is complex, uneven, with myriads small bits and pieces, almost like Sparklight’s skin… Is this what am I made of?

One metal ear is sticking out from my messy hair already, and to all my surprise I see how it follows the sounds of the room with a painless movement. Without my conscious knowledge at all… The other itches inside me, it will be born soon as well. Like a tooth of a baby… It is not a beautiful, innocent, furry Loveless ear, but it is a solid bit of sharp metal, not delicate and not tender… My neck is not a human one. It is massive and heavy, like that of a wolf or a bear. My head is bent forward, and my chest is hefty. My legs are slightly bent lower, as if I could not keep my knees straight…

…my body is plainly disfigured. I can see why I felt so heavy. I look like I’m not made to walk upright anymore. I am… a werewolf. Half-way in transformation...

No wonder it’s hard to keep my balance. I have something in me of a beast that tries to stand on its back legs to reach for something above. *I* am the morkvarg, not Sparklight… The right hand, that is transformed already is a predator paw with sharp claws inside it. I push them in and out easily, I reach out to touch the wall and the claws extract by themselves even before I get to think about it. A screech of concrete against metal makes my teeth grit tensely. I back my hand out to me and close my eyes for a moment. The silence that follows is broken by the machinery beeping and rhythmic breaths of two people… two alive creatures, June and myself, the beauty and the beast.

I stop halfway and freeze staring with a bemused glare, digesting the understanding… And the naked part of my face shines up for a moment with a most strange inner light that I’ve seen only on Sparklight’s body, while my voice erupts with a most urgent and unexpected question revealing a jawful of metal predator teeth:

“Is that forever?” - I might sound strong, calm and contained, but inside me I am truly confused. Not hysteric, not mad, not scared…

She puts the mirror aside and walks up to me back again.

“May I?” - she asks and takes my hand - “Ratchet taught me” - she holds it gently and then presses slightly inside my palm. It makes me feel itchy and funny, but then I suddenly see how my dusty paw that scratched the wall a moment earlier, takes shape of a human hand. A proper human hand… just skinless. Covered with transparent something that pretends to be my hide. I gasp in awe - “Think about it strongly, think to keep it this way” - she says softly still holding my hand in hers - “It works, see?”...

She looks up at me (I realize I am taller though crumbled bending down to my animal posture) and she says:

“It is not clear how you’re evolving and how your body transforms. It seems you’ve passed through the worst, but you still have both bodies within you, and your human heart is pumping your blood while your spark is charging your energon. You need both kinds of food… - maybe I can help you dress now - you need, you need what both types of creatures feed on. Your human part holds you from free transformation, and you are now trapped in this form. Your Cybertronian body is not really working yet either, and I am not sure if anything else is stable besides your hand and your tail - please let me help you, right, like that, sit down now, perhaps, the other hand… - yes, well, this is the situation. As you are fully conscious now you need to know this: please try to hold on to your human shape as much as possible. When your anger burst out and you fell off the bed, you started changing abruptly, tearing some bits of your skin apart - see here…” - she points to some stains on the bandages I’m wrapped in protruding with mixed brown red and blue. - “You still have a lot of your old skin and muscles, you’re also growing some new ones… that are different. The _nanities_ help, this jelly here that you see, it is an active dressing, that helps your body to heal. It works mostly on your new body, the old is… in quite not a good shape. But you need it as it seems, to restructure properly… And you need to leave it at peace, not to strain it more than necessary.”

I can’t take my eyes off my reflection in the glass, doing what she tells me, watching her help me dress… comparing comparing comparing… her, the model human, with me, an undefined monster... I can almost see my own matter moving inside me as if I were full of bugs or flies, like a dead body filled with maggots… I have no control. It is just little slow movements inside me that I see, but I shiver.

She looks at my face, understanding, compassionate… and then she does something amazing. She puts one hand on my belly and the other one on my back and moves them smoothly upwards, pressing my guts, squeezing me with a strength I would not expect in a plain human, her hands like a tight corset, as if with that short powerful movement s _he put the puzzle bits in place_. Then she says to me gently in this warm voice that hosts safety and home - “ _think of yourself as a human, think, you are who you were… Think only about it, nothing else… You are a human… You *are* *human*…”_

And suddenly… something changes in me, something stops the worms from moving in a chaotic way… It gets myself together. It gets me to be me…

And I become light as a feather.

I am the Eva from the school playground…

I am the Eva from the abandoned factory hall…

I am human…

I am…

I am me.

* * *

 

 

**Get up!**

Beep...peeb beep… peeb beep… peeb beep…

Tick tock… tick tock… tick tock…

Silence. Silence is what wakes me… Or have I been lying awake for a good time already? The light is off and there is no one around me. The silence is broken only by the quiet ticking and beeping of the apparatus that measures the work of my two hearts… in perfect sync. This is the sound of my body, of my time drowning in the darkness.

I am alone.

I don’t ask questions.

I am not ready.

The time is not right.

But I will.

Not yet though…

Now I am an animal.

My kernel is not fully set up… I’m full of glitches, contradictions and bugs… maggots.

Things happened.

I try not to think about them…

I’m good at handling trauma. I have a well-trained carpet to swipe things under. I know how to prioritise.

I can choose… I choose.

Ratchet was whining and murmuring at me for my spontaneous outburst but finally they put me to bed, and June had to go. _Go home_ , he said to her, _you need some rest June_. His voice was so soft and gentle, so much unlike when he talks to me. It’s been four days I was lying unconscious and it’s been the fourth day in a row that she showed up here because he asked her for help with my human _part._ I still do not fully get where she comes from and how they became friends, but there are obviously more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in philosophy… Sparklight is one of those things… no, she is not a thing. She is…

So, June the nurse (now I know it, she told me) has been coming to take care of me, patiently and with dedication, before and after work in the hospital, spending long hours tending to me and helping Ratchet to glue me together and put me back online. Four days unconscious, it makes a full week while I’ve been out, away from my life…

Has anyone been looking for me?

Has anyone spared me a thought?

Has anyone, any human, taken so much care and effort as the anonymous June did? Aside from Ingebjörk… Aside from my Sparklight… who is no human and who… who is… who is… I cannot name it but she is a part of me. _My Sparklight…_

_So do I trust? Do I trust really? Why do I trust? Am I stupid? Will I lose on this deal? What makes me do it? What kind of a fool am I? … … … …_

_< Checksum for input data: 746865726520617265206d6f7265207468696e677320696e2068656176656e20616e64206561727468  >_

_< Checksum for output data: 7468616e2061726520647265616d74206f6620696e20796f7572207068696c6f736f706879  >_

_< Verification: successful  >_

_…what? Impossible! They differ…_

That’s not how bloody checksums work!... Kernel, what are you doing? Are you as insane as I am? Can a computer halt due to a feeling, can it run out of its logic? Can it acquire a soul…? Can it… can I…?

 _You should be sleeping again, you should be resting,_ she said. But my life, my life is left somewhere, behind me, in ruin… in debris. For a week I have not been myself. Has that been just one week?

Do I exist? Is it me? Tell me Kernel…

I cannot lie idle like this, I am restless. Everything **is not ok**. I’m changed from a human into a monster, I am painful and my tissues are swollen with a poison mix of metal and water, I am alone, even though they look after me. I am alone and confused…

Having Sparklight with me wasn’t precisely easy but it was meaningful and even fulfilling. It filled my gaps secretly and though I could have been in conflict and tense and hungry for her, but she *was* a bliss and she made *me* make sense… even if it was the most insane one.

Being alone like this here, in a room of white walls and dark shadows, is useless. It does not make any sense, it makes me anxious. Even when I sleep, my brain still keeps thinking, and the thoughts that nestle in me, they shape into fear.

I have to do something finally. I cannot lie down and die. There must be a reason why I went through all this. It is time to go, stop giving up again. Time to try myself better than just on the path from the chair to the bed. At least to restore some balance, the only one I can regain. That is, to feed my longing… though/if/despite that I cannot heal my anguish.

I listen for a moment to what’s going on inside me. My Kernel… It is quiet. Maybe it went down leaving my human Brain in charge. I turn to the side of my bed and try to sit up slowly. It works as long as I keep thinking of myself as a human being. Stupid as it may seem, it almost sweats me wet with effort but it seems to be working. My body does not go crazy trying to change into hundreds of things at the same time. It keeps at least vaguely together, within a shape that I know… I touch my stomach and press it slightly, trying to repeat the magic that June cast. It’s maybe all just in my head, but it makes me feel better. I can at least move and think clearly.

Carefully, I put my bare feet on the floor. I move my weight to the soles and I feel how my skin and flesh squash under the heaviness of my body. _I am light…_ I repeat to myself. It does not help too much, maybe slightly. This is not the same thing… Little do I know about this, but I imagine I must be very heavy now instead. How much more metal is there inside me, what is my new flesh made of? Something that can be divided into smallest pieces, moved around and still work and function? And within all this harshness, there are my human parts, light, small, soft and meaty, still trying to work, to keep me living… I reach out to my back to check what I’ve become there. It is not easy to touch it but I manage and realize that all the spikes and blades are gone. It is, it must be smooth. The mirror winks at me ominously from the corner, wooing, luring, but I dare not to look at it. I know I would start changing again, falling apart if I succumbed to its spell… No.

I stand up slowly holding on to the bed. My soles hurt as if I weighed a tonne. I unplug gently the life subsistence turning the machinery off. Now I know how to do this, I took careful note how Ratchet and June did it when they were plugging me in and out.

Then I walk.

The door gives way easily. Did they think they sedated me enough not to wake up again before tomorrow? The night corridor is empty. I sneak out. The darkness is almost black, only a vague shade of yellow shines from behind a glass door deeper away. This is where I am heading. My steps feel plump and soft, the feet hurt as if I stepped on bruises…

The big door to the hangar where she is lying is closed. But the small, human sized door is open. I slink into the darkness. She is there, lying, silent and calm. Still. I come near.

I stand there in the dim light of a night lamp that Ratchet forgot to switch off, or maybe he left it there on purpose, to break the total darkness? In case she woke up? Can she be programmed easier than us, humans, who programme only ourselves? Something deep and overwhelming fills my lungs and it’s not air. I look at her shape in silence. It feels like it’s been ages since I last saw her. Excitement and sudden longing tickle inside my throat, slip down to my stomach, travel across my guts. They water my mouth and warm my belly. Only my lungs feel swollen and heavy, and the gulp from the throat doesn’t want to let go. I breathe deep, let the air pass through me, and I take a cautious step further. Breathe in… breathe out… breathe in…

_My Sparklight…_

Breathe out…

The green-yellow glow of life-subsistence devices paints shadows on her body that is half covered in white sheets. Does she need them too? Does she need warmth, like me? Am I not the only one that can be cold, freezing? The beeping sound is harmonious, and there is just one lifeline on the screen. Just one heart, the alien heart, the spark, with a strange living pattern. Not long ago I did not know it existed…

I step a few more steps closer and listen. She’s breathing. Quietly and calmly, very, very slow. I can tell her breath from mine. She breathes a few times per minute, inhaling and exhaling slowly, with a long and silent hiss…

Breathe in… breathe out…

 _She’s alive…_ I breathe deeply and feel how the tension I did not know about is letting go in me...

 _She’s alive…_ I so doubted that I would see her again…

 _She’s alive…_ Memory catches up with me: It was *her* wounds and her ill-healed scars that looked like smashed and burnt down worlds. It was her… my fallen angel… but…

 _She’s alive…_ I have to sit down, I feel so weak…

I am so exhausted as if just seeing her, hearing her live, took away my strength and drowned me in dull complacency… I did nothing to save her. But at least I am near. I need to lean on something, to sit, to hold onto something, or I’m going to fall. It’s not even the black skies that fill me, it’s just the freaking body, that gives way unrequested…

I move to the bed, closer, and I fight with the urge to uncover her burned and beaten body. To look and see what really happened, if it is still there, if I saw it right. To understand what they did to it. If she heals truly… If they weren’t lying to me. But…

 _She’s alive_ and that matters. That has to suffice for now. I swipe my gaze along her subtle silhouette. She’s lying on her stomach, with her hand next to her cheek, like a baby. Her face fades into darkness. I pin my eyes to her slim fingers showing from under the sheets. I move closer. I hold on to the bed and I do not think anymore of my feet that hurt or of my twisted body that wants to change shape again. I guess I am so happy, so tired, but so happy, I have my drug back with me, my addiction, my light in the tunnel… my girl. She is so peaceful and calm. Lying on her cheek, eyes closed. Doesn't it make her neck stiff? Is she comfortable...?

I touch her lightly, piously and I stroke the joints of her fingers. They are so gentle and fine. The loveliest fingers on Earth. She is a goddess to me. Goddesses never die. She is my deity, my own wonder… Is my faith sufficient?

Like me just before, she is pinned to dozens of cables and pipes that disappear in the darkness that sink in the fake silence around us. The bed is far too big for her, and no wonder as she’s so small compared to Ratchet. She, my four-meters-tall monster, she is so tiny and fragile. I can hardly reach her cheek with my hand from here, but I have to, I have to touch her face, at least once, before I go back to my lonely bed of shadows. I want to see if she’s shining, if I’m not dreaming, if she’s really there.

I climb up on the bed with effort. My body is calling for help. But help will not come, I can forget it, I have to manage by myself. It takes some grunting and wheezing. Finally, I am up there, kneeling beside her on bed sheets, sniffing… Her smell overwhelms me. Tired from the effort I almost collapse next to her. I curl up by her head and I enjoy her breathing. I listen to her heartbeat beeping through the medical machinery and then, finally, so tired, so relieved to have her near, I stroke her cheek cautiously. Then I lean closer and kiss her lips as if she were my sleeping beauty… Her face flickers faintly and the light dies out in a brief moment. She’s silent.

I keep stroking her lightly and I kiss her again and again. Then I curl up tighter. I am cold. But I will still stay here a little. Just for a moment longer, not to leave her, as long as it gets. I am so afraid to wake her even if it is what I dream of. I nestle myself carefully near her, like a cat, looking for warmth that is not there. A few more moments… I braid my hands around her fingers and I am counting her breaths. The world does not matter no more. My tears just fall, still and silent, one by one, from my mechanical eyes, from under my human eyelids, stinging, salty and warm. They sink into the white sheets and tickle my cheeks, wet and itchy.

She’s quiet.

I’m so alone but I’m with her.

The checksums match.


	17. Tunnel Vision

_45 76 6f 6c 75 74 69 6f 6e 20 69 73 20 6f 70 65 6e 20 73 6f 75 72 63 65  
_

 

* * *

 

It is warm, it is fresh, it smells summer… I'm tucked in a fluffy duvet, it's as soft as a bed can be. It is so perfect I can't believe it. It feels like _on holidays again,_ in remote countryside, in the sunshine, on a fresh morning after the birds just calmed down their songs and _I don’t have to do anything_ but snooze. Free from my everyday burdens, relaxed, happy… dreamy, blurry. The sun gazes at me, I feel it through my closed eyelids. I'm nestled in such goodness that my mind thinks it's unreal. I'm entombed in the safety of more than just the fresh bedclothes and morning light. Something heavy is holding me, shielding me, embracing… An arm strong and secure rests over my whole curled up body, a wing much too long to be real, much too tangible to be fake. There is only one person in the world that can cradle like this…

My eyes open to see what I dreamt of, what I wished for, what I needed. I see a pair of closed eyelids, lips half open, dark silvery cheeks, calm and harmonious, only a breath away. The morning is bright and golden. And there is really a duvet in which I'm wrapped tightly, together with the arm that claims me. I am tucked into her, pressed in by her wing, as if she just stretched it and took me over, as if I belonged to her.

When… when did it happen? How did I miss this moment for which I would give my life yesterday…? I press my face to her warm cheek. Smooth electricity flows through me, it dances on my skin and in my hair. It is so good to feel her near me. It is so precious to see a vague shade of colour floating across her face.

Is it possible that I woke her? Her breath is stable and slow. Her lips nearly smile to me. Her field is spreading around us, calm, dreamy, warm and full of serene hope. I burrow in the curves of her body, cuddle in tighter to let it embrace me. My mind is empty of thoughts, strangely happy…

How… how did this happen? I came here to her deep in the night… I fell asleep cold, freezing… Did she feel me lie with her? Was I like a cat on her pillow…? Uninvited but welcome, cuddling but keeping aside? When did she reach out her arm and hug me closer…? Or was it me who crawled under her wing? I so wish I remembered that moment, when the cold turned into warmth, my loneliness into a bliss…

Where… where did the duvet come from?

Touched by a sudden intuition I raise myself slowly on my elbows, trying not to wake her, I peek over her body...

“Ehm” - I hear him grunting.

Big blue eyes are shining at me from a dark corner of the room. Damn… Yeah… Ratchet… Of course... I meet his gaze staring at me, from where he sits by a desk, a workshop-like one with a computer on it and a couple flickering king-size screens. Indeed… I keep forgetting, we are not home alone. It looks like a hospital for robots and, so, there has to be a doctor on duty...

"Good morning Eva" - he *smiles* at me at the same moment, and I do not understand what makes him so happy. Is he enjoying himself looking at us, are we funny, did he suddenly become warm-hearted seeing my weakness for her, or is he merely sarcastic? I would let out a sigh but this smile of his, it makes me unsettled, it doesn't fit my scheme, nor my logic, nor what I’d expect of him.

“You, you are truly stubborn” - his voice is calm and low, almost melodic. He shakes his head and gets up from his place stepping slowly and quietly towards us.

He is huge… I reflect again, and I freeze. I feel Sparklight's wing still around me now getting into his sight. The moment's awkward.

Only now I notice that she is almost disconnected from the spiderweb of cables, with only a few left in place. He stops by her side, checks something then turns to me back again, still smiling.

“You brought me the duvet” - I say quietly between one portion of shame and the other. This situation is unreal… I feel again like we’re caught inflagranti with her dark smooth wing holding me caged.

"What was I supposed to do?" - he shrugs lightly - "You were freezing, shaking cold and… well, she clearly tried to warm you" - he looks at her arm thoughtfully - "I think she knows that you're here." - we both stare at her calm face on the pillow - "I was sure she was deep in stasis, but now it might be that she's waking… but… it's strange. You two are STRANGE." - I nod slowly. If anything on Earth is clear to me, it is this. We are strange.

"And, mind you, bots do not use pillows. Or duvets. Unlike humans…" - he smirks lightly, and I wonder if I'll ever comprehend him - "You've got two more hours here with her. Ehm… I am not going now to dig you out of her grip… When June comes though, you'll need to go for a check-up. But not yet. You can stay here. Just try not to wake her." - he sighs loudly but speaks quietly - "And try not to touch her backside. You almost rolled yourself over her in the night…" - he shrugs leaning once more above her from the other side, checking something. - "I had to disconnect some things and close her armour… So now you can lie here fairly safely, but take care, please, be cautious. Ok. I will be back in two hours. Now try to get some sleep." - his voice is low and kind of caring. Then he looks me in the eyes for a slight moment and then retreats to the door. - _"Slagging symbiosis…”_ \- he murmurs as if to himself but… - why make an effort to use my language if I weren't supposed to hear it…?

“Ratchet…” - he stops at the door and looks back at me - “What is all this… symbiosis?”

He stops and waves his hand in the air… - “You don't do that, humans… maybe besides when you’re pregnant. Yeah. It’s a good one. You’re both pregnant with each other. Mhm.”

“...pregnant?!!!” - my eyes go wider than my face.

“Not in that sense, not having a baby but simply pregnant, just without procreation, without multiplying yourselves.”

“...how so???”

“It’s like, well, a symbiont has a carrier and a carrier has a symbiont, and they are, well… bonded, dependent… sort of…”

“...what?!”

"I don't know if that’s your case, really. It all seems impossible so it could be something else... Better ask June when she comes. June knows… close to everything required. I am not good at explaining. She'll be here soon… Ask June… June…" - he murmurs and leaves the room before I get to open my mouth again. The door rolls down behind him, and his steps disappear from my soundscape.

I let a deep breath out. What have I just heard? I nestle deeper next to her and look at her calm, peaceful face.

~/Sparklight…/~ can she hear me? She holds me in a sleeping embrace. ~/What are we?/~

Ratchet said this more than once. Symbionts… what does he mean by that, though? I lived all my life without Sparklight, I coped very well alone, I was fine, self-sufficient, even sometimes happy. And now… I hardly remember that life. Did I really have a job? A home? A car and plants that need water? It is left behind, half of the globe and two near-death experiences away, one per each of us...

I don’t know about this symbiosis. I guess… I think… In human terms, though it is hard to digest, to admit, to appreciate fully, but I think… I have fallen in love.

In itself, that’s nothing weird. It happens to people, at least to humans. And even if, say, even if it’s awkward, in a certain sense, taken my whole experience, this time with Sparklight it seems more normal, more right than ever before. So what that she is an alien, after all, she *is* also a person, and what's more, she showed that she cared. At least a little… Not like all those people who used me and left me behind. It seems, she acted like she really wanted something good for me, something pure. So what, she does not fit any schemes, any standards, so what, she is not human, so what, she is different, she must be different, she's like that. That is her essence… Maybe… maybe even I fell for it. For that difference. For the unknown and the change…

It's hard for me to acknowledge that I might actually have gotten involved with someone, whoever that is, again. I promised myself not to do this, more than a thousand times. And now I lie here with someone, almost-official together. I shudder slightly. Infatuation has always meant folly to me, and it made me angry when it happened, especially if it hit with full strength. I survived many times my indiscretions but ended up with wounds and bruises, with my soul lifeless, drained. Now I'm also all wounds and bruises, this time to the tangible bone, but my soul… My soul is soaring. I feel butterflies in me each time I look at her. And she *is* here with me, even in this miserable condition, she cuddled me close to her, maybe instinctively, unconsciously, but I just feel I *do* matter. I *do* mean something to her… I'm comfortable with her, like almost with no one ever… And everything I feel inside me, it tells me good things, good emotions. Acceptance, warmth… symbiosis?

Is this what Ratchet implied? Or did he mean the connection through which we can share our blood? That is more than people can even dream of sharing. _To feed each other with one another’s essence,_ it must be this what he meant. Like in a twisted pregnancy, but mutual. Is that the comparison? Is *that* why he was shocked when I told him that it was *me* feeding *her*? Was I not supposed to do it because that’s not the role of a _symbiont,_ but the one of a _carrier?_ Did I make it mutual against _nature?_

I slip my tail around her neck gently. I feel the itch to connect but… it's not right, she is sleeping. And the slots are already taken. I caress her around those cables that fill her with alien juices, _not mine_. I sigh. I know that she needs it. It's good for her. But still, _I'd like to be the one feeding_. Even though I am small, even if I'm insufficient…

Because… Why then… I would enjoy so much… so much… … … to feed her? Even more than to take from her? I wish… _a warm shivery wave passes through me_ … I wish we could close the circle. Would that be a capital sin?

It may be a little perverse, but when I think of it honestly, putting aside the horror of stiffness and fear for her precious life, it was… exhilarating to plug into her like that, to give her relief for a moment or at least imagine it helped her. To feel a tiny bit of her world, a breath of her thoughts and her spirit, and even that scary dream. Part of it was, by the way, much too similar to mine. Was it my projection or did I really see it? How much is she like me? Is she a version of _me_? My eyes pop wide open. How much do I really know her?

Sparklight, I so want to know you. I want you outside of your silence. What are you like, who are you daily? What are your dreams, deep inside…? What is the past that has brought you? What was your everydayness like? If we were really free, what could we do on a sunny morning like this? Wake up, make love, get up, have some tea (I smile to myself, tea is so human, so _organic_ ), go for a walk in a park, hand in hand… The two of us monsters among people, it is funny just to imagine how others would react. There's no way we could pretend we're merely two girls, two friends, a couple…

But say we were, both of us, just ordinary women, stealing a kiss from one another, on a park bench, to the dislike of old ladies… Have lunch in a small bar, go home and play some games or maybe even go exploring, spend the afternoon climbing fences, taking pictures, uncovering secrets of the past of others who work and live their lives no more. Take some beers in the evening and maybe dinner somewhere nice and cosy, with lounge music, wooden tables and tasty food. Secretly looking at each other, casually touching hands, sniffing the scent of each other's the hair, enjoying secret caresses, feeling each-others fields.

And then at night, at night she'd be my monster, strong and perfect and scary, overwhelming, breathtaking and wild, luring me into realms from which there's no escape. With her wings and her tendrils and her rainbow eyes… All the secrets that only I, in the whole world, would know. Connecting… click click I'd be hers, click click she'd be mine… Only this way we could sleep peacefully, as one monster made of two, a single body with single blood flow, two, or maybe more beating hearts, pulsing sparks, in one rhythm, in a joint melody of two souls intertwined.

And on Monday I’d have to go to work, and she, the Sparklight-human, she’d likely work somewhere as well. Magically turned into people we’d split on the way with a morning kiss - goodbye, see you soon, have a wonderful day, I’ll miss you…

Am I that simple, Sparklight? Well, is such a vision stupid? Based on the only life that I’ve known… What is your vision? Flying skies high (yes I want it), but then what else? What was your life like before…? What would be _normal_ for you? Ratchet the medic seems to be a regular chap. So what that he is a huge robot. If I detach from that concept, he is also a person. A person, like all of us… I am not sure what he's doing here when he is bored or lonely, does he read, play games, talk to June on the phone, go for a ride in the form of a truck? But it's not so different. He has got his daily matters, he's got friends, at least one…

…I inhale her slow breath into my hungry lungs, like that wet, cloudy night in the fields, catching the air she releases and smelling it, I keep it inside for a while… Mhm. Is this how symbiosis works? I smirk lightly. If there are more such symbiotic creatures in the dark skies, how can they focus on anything but each other’s breathing?

Don't tell me it's the alien biology that brought this, I *want* to believe it is magic. I want to trust in my feelings, I refuse this to be just some mutations, genetics, sheer chemistry, illusions of life…

But then again what else is love and emotions than just chemistry affecting our brains, our hormones, producing what we think of as feelings, creating enchantments and beauty, the sense of sweetness and closeness, all that I've always been so afraid of, all that makes us dependent… Reliant. Defenceless. Happy… Fulfilled… Human. All that makes us belong… what's the difference? Is there any…?

How does Ratchet understand it? Maybe that's why he does not want to explain. When his own voice softens speaking to June, does he know it, does he realise, is she his symbiont and is he her carrier, or is it the other way around? Are they bonded? Or does he live in denial? And what does it really mean?

Then I can’t forget that since a few days I'm a monster, one with paws, claws, a pointy ear and a tail. A jelly bag of metal worms inside me that want to _transform_ me into something I don't even know exists… Now, that cannot be usual, even for Ratchet and June. This is where my logic ceases, this is the _end of the observable universe_ for me, my private _events horizon_ from behind of which not even the oldest light travels. Although I know, we, _humankind_ , can compute it, _understand_ with the might of the pure mind, mathematics… We know something exists out there further, beyond _the cosmic microwave background_. Beyond common comprehension. Is it infinity? A brave new world? Heaven? Emptiness? Normalcy… Does _she_ know what’s behind all those secrets? They, robot people, can build space bridges, break into our satellites… where are their limits?

I breathe deep again and look up above me. I scan the ceiling. Another factory hall. This one is made of concrete and metal. A few rusty windows under the roof let streaks of the morning sun slip in. No longer grey, but now golden-white. How differently things look in sunlight from those in shadows. The room is brightening up with the coming day, it's so clean, unlike what it must have looked like when it was still abandoned. For sure it must have been deserted. Who would see it better than me, the signs of oldness, the strain of concrete, the effort of ageing steel… But it is now clean and repainted, almost sterile inside, though outside the glass is stained in rust like a church window in colour…

At least it is not some bunker like I imagined so far. Sun. Sun is essential… Everything is so big, Ratchet-sized. Adapted. Even the desk, by which I first saw him sitting this morning, is huge. The world is *huge*… And I am so small. Tiny. A micro-creature. I relax under the warm duvet, firmly embraced by her wing. I feel good, I feel soft.

I didn't plan it but I stayed here last night. I must have fallen asleep next to her… What did we look like when Ratchet found us? Most intimate, unaware. Me holding onto her fingers on a pillow wet of stupid tears… Or wrapped in her wing already? Cuddling to her desperately, for warmth or rather for love? Could it have disturbed him? Is it… ugly, distasteful, gross? Has he judged us? Does he care at all? He covered me with the duvet. For warmth… Instead of shouting, decrying, trying to take me away… He just left me here, with her, despite all his previous ranting and grumbling. As if my stubborn anguish won this battle. He gave up… the way _wise men_ withdraw from a squabble. The way they let a child have their toy, for the sake of peace and the bigger picture…

It irks me, but it must be true.

The angry-wise doctor Ratchet. He called us symbionts… or maybe it is just me? Why does it feel so… right… to be acknowledged as the queer one on a fling with a demon? We are obviously something, and he made a stamp on it by finding me here. Letting me stay. Showing me care.

But isn't it what I wanted? To be with her, warm and safe. To fill my lifelong yearning… for the… unknown?

God, she is so alien… Is that what really excites me? She is like the force of gravity, that changes the course of time by just being. And it's so strangely good, in the warmth, in the slumber, tucked into her again, with the heaviness of her wing, reassuring. With the hum of her breath.

I may well be a symbiont in this moment, who cares…

Not me.

* * *

 

Two hours pass in two minutes, and someone *knocks* at the door. I wipe my eyes with my hand and sit up freeing me gently from Sparklight's hug. I move close to the edge of the bed and dangle my feet over the floor. I get my nightgown in order, the only thing that I'm wearing. It covers me now almost down to my ankles. I guess I am sort of ready.

“Come in” - I say silently and the door roll up.

They stand there both, the nurse and the medic. They look at me intrigued.

“Good morning Eva” - says June, and I smile to her - “How are you doing?”

“Thank you, I guess I am somewhat better.”

“Can you walk or does it hurt your feet?” - she is obviously aware of how I commuted from my room to Sparklight’s - “Let me see… … oh …” - she covers her mouth with her hand, which is not a good omen.

She scans my foot soles with attention and then glances at Ratchet. Well, they hurt me in general, a little, but most of all they are numb. I cannot really say I feel much in them, yet the squishy memory from yesterday night itches my bones. Taken that I am quite weighty with metal, there might be something to look at in the aftermath of my night stroll… And I am not surprised to see her face worried when she turns back to me.

“Technically walking is not good for you in this phase of transformation.” - she explains in round words - “You’re far too heavy and their surface is small, the tissue fatigued… there is too much pressure…”

“I guess nothing is good for me now…” - I mutter.

"Yet you escaped from your bed." - Ratchet clearly can't resist making this comment. Finally. It took him at least two hours of restraint already, so that's a success worth praise.

“You wouldn’t grant me my wish.” - I dare to face him.

“I would… just when the time would have been right.”

“Isn’t it right already? Nothing bad’s happened, has it?” - I challenge him.

He shakes his head. - “But it could have. Remember, with you here with her she couldn't lie with her armour open… I had to unplug most of the meds…”

"Right…" - I sigh, reflecting. Another good reason to have me shoved out of here, away from her… - "You have a point… but still, if you didn't refuse me just to see her…" - I dare say, and I wonder where it does come from.

“You think it’d change anything?”

“...”

“Because you still don’t trust us.”

“... I do”

“No, you don’t.”

“...”

“No use arguing, Sparklight here needs silence.” - June kicks in with a sober view - “I think we should take Eva to the small medbay. And then perhaps you can sort it out between you two later, without disturbing Sparklight.” - she keeps staring at my soles. He frowns slightly but says nothing.

I look down at my feet. They are quite swollen, perhaps a little too black and blue. I do not even attempt to raise them to see what’s going on there under, but I suspect...

“...Here there are no proper conditions for a checkup with her recharging here...”

I look closer and see purplish frames on the verge of my soles that look like deep colourful bruises… As I stare blankly pondering on the effects of my night wandering, something else soaks into my mind. A feeling of concentration… anxiety. Something tense...

"...Eva needs antiseptics and a sterile setting. There are still a couple wounds open and now these feet, they do not look good..." - she speaks to him.

But I hardly feel anything wrong with my feet, besides the strange shape and their colour… why is it so? Maybe it’s this numbness…

“...Can you help us Ratchet? You’ll need to carry her to the other room… she should not walk on her own with her foot soles like this...”

This intensity in the air… Electricity almost buzzing. It is more than just what Sparklight’s field feels like. It is a fully fledged nuclear bomb ticking… The atmosphere condensed on the verge of dripping with _heavy water, blazing with hot plasma…_

I open my mouth to say something, I look around and see weird as if the world suddenly became cut off from me by a glass pane… Like it was in that _shadow zone_ nightmare. I almost stand on a mirror and the world drifts away.

I hear June continue speaking, I see Ratchet’s hands reaching out for me to carry me for the check-up… but…

"... let's go, let's leave Sparklight in peace…"

Damn, that swelling in the air, that anomaly in the tiny, rolled up spacetime dimension, imperceptible for human or even robot senses… _Entrapment… Prison… Blood… lots of blood… Hopelessness, death… No… Noooooo!_

“Wait…” - I utter and grab my head in my hands, my tail swaying uneasily out of my sight and control.

_Fear, dread, panic… pain, fire, water… nightmare, high voltage electric shock…_

I moan incomprehensibly and deeply in sudden upheaval as if it hurt me, I cannot get over it, I cannot stop it… it’s flowing…

_Abuse, rape, infringement… Numbing ties on the arms and legs… open circuits, hacked processors…_

It comes like a flood, like a fire, consuming everything in its way… lands, seas, houses, mountains, forests, living creatures…

_Hunger, deadly hunger, torn intestines, clinical trials, mutation, lost breath, drowning…_

A disaster is coming… the end of the world…

_War… Slavery… Loss…_

I need to stop it…

"Something's wrong?" - it's June's voice from a distance behind the cotton wall of thickening air. Ratchet's hands are hanging idle reached out for me, unsure what to do…

“Wait…” - I whisper with almost no voice turning my head slowly to Sparklight, who’s still lying motionless just behind me, her wing hugging the pillow…

They wait as I told them.

Is that you, my werewolf?

Maybe indeed you are waking…

Why the suffering, why the fear?

Maybe…

Not maybe…

For sure.

The call is velvet, soft and electric at first, like a wave of current passing across my body, that inner voice that will keep stunning me forever. ~/Eva… Eva?!!!!/~ My first reaction is joy. Yet, in the same instant, it turns into a growling roar of panic. I glare at her, my head almost turned around backwards, gaze pinned at her face. Her mouth is closed but she's screaming, it’s tearing my head apart…

There is no time for time to pass. It all takes place in one moment. Her blue-red eyes open abruptly. Quick. Shiny. Burning. Flickering sick-bright. ~/Eva…? Eva!…/~ In a split second they lock at Ratchet and June ~/Who are they? What happened to you? What did they do to you?!!/~ Before I manage to even think whatever, I’m already wrapped tight in her feelers that appeared from nowhere, in no time.

"What's… oh no!" - it's Ratchet gasping. I hardly catch it. I'm focused on her. In one-tenth of a second, she lifts herself on her arms that look like strange wings more than ever. Up from the bed. Down on her legs. To the floor. I don't know what comes first, her wings or her feelers. There is no time to think a thought. The air's out of my lungs pressed by her iron grip. She looks like a strange ghost veiled in the white sheets that Ratchet had covered her with. Hectic. They float around her, smack my face softly, hide the world in their white. Blue energon splashes from the torn neck cable, on her, on me, on the spectres of bedsheets. The precious substance of life.

She pulls me with her and leaps away to a shady corner, then past the doctor and the nurse, along the wall, through the door and out to the corridor. Before the swift medic makes to reach her, grab her, stop her. Before anyone squeaks a word. I just feel the painful swaying as I am carried like a mannequin, a dead baby ape, a doll of rubber…

~/Sparklight, wait!/~ I manage to utter, but I'm not sure she even listens. Her panic strikes me blind through her field. Genuine fear and terror are boiling, freezing. She darts through the building to another big factory hall. I vaguely hear footsteps behind us, the world goes by in a blur... ~/Sparklight, wait!/~

~/We must out, out of here/~ her frenzied cry blasts through my head, full of terror I've never heard in her, never seen in no one ~/I'm not going through this again… we must out, out of here… I'm not letting them take you…/~ all those words fall in one package, without order, without logic, full of horror, full of dread. But there is no way out of here. We are cornered, and I know it. The space around us paints me schematics through the senses of my tail. She raced exactly the wrong way. Right into a dead end.

Where is my all-knowing Sparklight?

The hall is big and spacious, shady with few rays of the sun falling through a pattern of small dirty windows above us. Their frames are solid, reinforced, each too small for her to even try to push through in the time we’re given without hurting herself and cutting me into pieces. She casts herself left and right, hysteric, blinded, in a search for a way out of the trap. Tormenting and squeezing my guts in her hold ~/I won't let them… I won't let anyone.../~ until she backs against the wall behind her still scanning the windows above us, considering options, with me pinned to her, my feet in the air, my body burning, skin tearing, staining the white of the nightgown…

Does she even know how I've changed since the last time she saw me? Does she feel how heavy I am now? And how my body is different from the one that she knew before she slipped into coma…? ~/Put me down Sparklight…/~ I cast my eyes across the old boiler room that the hall turns out to be. I can see big screens, some simple king-size furniture and metal ladders and platforms like in old video games. ~/Put me down, it hurts…/~ She can't hear me. She won't listen.

“Stop!” - it’s Ratchet, he runs in dashing. Sparklight backs out even tighter, right into a corner, in an ambush. Her gaze swipes the roof structures while her arms transform in strange shapes to become two shiny sharp blades reflecting knifelike sun rays.

~/Sparklight, stop, you don’t need this/~ I beg her.

~/We're out of here/~ she scans the escape ways intensely.

~/No Sparklight, no, don’t fly there, you will hurt me/~ I nag her.

“%#&$^f&)@!@)$(@)^$^f^e@&&$@)&&^!^e&$@)&$^f@)^*&%&@&$@)&(^f&%@!” - Ratchet groans in his language. I nearly understand… but despite what he’s saying, his hands turn into weapons, two large blasters aimed straight at us. My heart sinks…

~/Sparklight, put me down, it hurts me.../~ I moan from deep inside me.

~/No, they’ll… use us/~

“Let her go… @)&#^*^%@&&#@)^(^e^e^f^#^%^e&$” - he warns. Is this about me? Oh, he so does not understand…

I gasp deeply, but she won’t hear me. I’m not sure how long I will hold out… ~/Sparklight, you’ve gone crazy… Stop it!!!/~

~/No/~ at least she answers, but she's hectic, her spark jumps madly in her chest, pure fear spreads in her field, poisonous, numbing, black… My eyes gape into Ratchet's guns barrels…

"Tell her something" - he hisses desperately to me - "Primus, Eva, say something to her or this all will end up bad" - it’s only now that I fathom he can't hear us talking. I open my mouth lamely, try to catch some air and say something, but it's too late, I'm too slow. Before I notice we're up in the air already, she leaps right on a platform that squeals and screeches loudly. Rusty dust falls released by the impetus of the jump, challenging the old structure. But there’s no time to test its endurance - she's climbed already to another level. My head sways like on a rollercoaster and I'm counting the bits of my ribs squashed by her inhuman strength, that drags me with her. This is a new type of torture added to my collection, a new part of my body injured. I cannot even breathe. Does she know what she's doing to me? We almost fly with no wings. Hop hop like a monkey she ends up under the ceiling on a gantry girder, she tries to take a long leap for the window, loses balance, regains it miraculously just before falling twelve meters down to the concrete floor. She freezes. It is too far, too far for a jump, too far for a tentacle to reach and grab the firm metal window frames… there is no other way but to transform and fly, smashing through it.

She hesitates…

I hear Ratchet's steps just below us, joint with the rusty moan of the lower platform, I hear the quick breath of June running after, climbing the ladder.

Sparklight still hesitates pushed into the wall at the end of the girder, crouching, catching her breath, deciding… Trapped in her ties, I feel a strong vibration charging across her body, and it fills me with sheer terror… in a bit, she's gonna turn into a jet, and I will be minced with her, shredded through the grated frames of those windows... No!

“Don’t let her transform. She’ll fall apart!” - Ratchet’s shout echoes desperately across the hall from below me - “Her t-cog is not fixed yet!” - he cries out loud, obviously to me, as if he gave up on her - “she must know it… she must run her diagnostics!” ... - how does he think I can stop her? What powers do I have over her madness? Can’t he see I’ve got no powers?

~/Listen to him, don’t transform, Sparklight!/~

~/  
We  
must  
get  
out  
out  
out  
OUT!  
of  
here  
/~

~/Listen to him… Don't transform, just don't transform, I beg you.../ - I whisper, and I force my hands to grab her by the feelers that lock me much too tight.

I feel her spark pulsing, frantic, her body is tense, preparing… It flashes through me how Ratchet was worried I'd touch her healing back on the bed, now she's up under the ceiling pressing that back to the wall, almost transforming, destroying the effects of long hours of his work. Her field filled with immense panic, her knees bent and her wings trembling. I see with the eyes of my soul how she fails to shapeshift and we're falling, like that night, like in the meadow, she's too weak, not yet fixed, and I'm too heavy, too fragile… I can't allow it.

I try to free myself a little and lift myself higher, at least to be able to turn enough and see her eyes. Her frantic, desperate red-blue clockwork... I need my hands to hold me up but yet I have to touch her, calm her, somehow… I raise my tail and stroke her cheek with it ~/Don't transform, just don't transform, don't, I beg you.../ - I repeat my whispered mantra ~/Don't go crazy, we're safe here, he won't hurt us./~

~/No, Eva, what are you doing?!/~ she protests without conviction, her body all strained, pressed to the corner between the wall and the ceiling, like a sick pigeon, eyes gaping towards the windows, but I keep stroking, touching, caressing her face… speaking soft wordless thoughts to her.

~/It’s all right, it’s all right my white flower… They won’t hurt us, I promise, they won’t do us harm… They took care for us. They’re helping us… t r u s t   m e… /~ I whisper while the looped chant of warmth sings in my field, forcing out through the sum of all pains that I’m feeling, wiping them under the carpet, for later… I’m trying to… give her some warmth and safety, while a part of my soul wonders why we’re not yet shot with Ratchet's lasers, stunned with EMP grenades, caught with huge alien robot hands, what keeps him from acting? Stopping us?

I try to look back. With the corner of my eye, I see June panting heavily standing next to Ratchet on the shaky platform that bends under his weight. It is a miracle it won't crumble… I see closer, she's holding him by his huge hand, no more weapons aimed at us, only her keeping him back, lightly, preventing him from running behind us, letting us breathe… She whispers something wise to him in a soft voice that I catch only slightly, but it gives my heart time to come back on track…

So I am singing my song to Sparklight ~/It's all right, it's all right my little demon, my sweetest, my dearest, it's all right, you are safe, you're just healing, you need to recover, it's all right… I'm with you… they are friends, and they will help us/~ her grip loosens slightly, I can catch my breath in the squeezed lungs ~/It's all right… you are with me/~ but her eyes are still insane, they swipe the surrounding, frantic, her frame is still shaking, I know she hasn’t given up yet, she’s hesitating…

But the world is frozen. It all lasted maybe ten seconds. T E N   S E C O N D S… maybe twenty.

I drown my eyes in hers ~/You're alive… I was so worried/~ she still does not know fully what I'm saying, but now her eyes stare at me, a bit as if she first saw me, maybe the first time in her life. And then I feel, I feel it really, she breathes deeply. I whisper ~/Breathe in… now breathe out… breathe in… it’s all good, it's all right… just breathe…/~ I count her breaths. Next seconds pass… time dissolves…

Her eyes slow down jumping between Ratchet, June, me and the window. I gasp again for the air in the prison of her feelers, my guts squished to a pulp, I don't want to know what's left of me… Oh, it hurts so badly! Instead, I see how she eyes them, and her gaze catches their holding hands. The little hand of June holding back the monster Ratchet from intervening… She's got him wrapped up around her finger… Does she know? Does he know?...

In an impulse, I hug Sparklight. Her spark jumps up and down but it's slowing, I can feel it, still frantic, but calmer, as if their hands hypnotised her. Finally, she listens to me. I know it. I know it through her field.

And as if upon a miracle, as if she felt it too, June, again, knows when to say something:

"We mean no harm Sparklight." - thank God she uses her name.

~/She tells the truth./~ I confirm.

“We’re trying to help…”

~/They are, Sparklight, they are./~

~/Are they?/~ she speaks finally. I close my eyes in relief. She listened again, she hears me…

~/Yes, my werewolf./~

"We're so sorry… We did not mean to upset you..." - June continues while my eyes swipe over Ratchet who frowns a little but then I see his face relax as she… I see how she squeezes his big finger in her small palm, calming him, telling him that she's got this. I almost see in his face the way he feels it. I almost sense his field. The Iron Giant and the little nurse… They are harmonious.

I look back at Sparklight, into her irises still soaking with madness, shining strange light, almost red. I squeeze my hands tighter and whisper to her inside my mind ~/Please put me down… I’m all hurting. Please, you don’t want to make me bleed…/~ I stroke her with my tail again over her tense face and neck.

~/Won’t they… You… I cannot let them…/~

~/Please… I trust them. If you cannot trust them, just trust *me*…/~

There is still confusion and conflict in her, but she takes a breath and slowly puts me down on the gantry. My magic worked. Her feelers unwind, and I slump down to the metal beam, almost losing balance, my head going round from the height, finally free, breathing. At the same time Sparklight falters, grabs to a support column behind me and leans down to her knees, hardly fitting the metal slab’s narrow width. Weak and lame… perching high, like a wounded eagle and its half-dead prey.

~/Forgive me Eva…/~ she raises her head a little, and her eyes are sad and grey. I lift my hand to her as she reaches out to me with her feeler, now gently and carefully. I grab its tip and the small tendrils slip out braiding around my metal fingers. It tickles warmly, they're soft and tender and so exhausted with fear. I feel how they tremble on my fake skin. And I feel how she's touching my chest and my ribs and my stained nightgown with her other feeler, exploring, scanning the damage she caused to me… I sense how her field is changing, a new kind of fear is surfacing, a different one but as desperate…

I shiver. I even panic for a moment. I don't want to be hurt anymore. Not now, not today, not ever. I'm so fed up, I'm done with it, I want to rest, I want to feel healthy, strong and cared for… I don't want to be an object again. What did I imagine when I thought of me as a thing…?

"Eva?" - June makes an inquiring gesture, but then I wave my hand.

"I'm all right June, give us a minute." - I manage to push the air out of my lungs - "You can't hear us, but we're talking."

“Talking?” - Ratchet looks even more confused.

"In our heads, like I told you…" - I explain letting silence follow. But June’s question reassures me, I'm in control again. I'm sober. I squeeze Sparklight's little tendrils slightly, braided around my palm. She's mine, and I have to deal with it. And she is finally waking. I see it in her eyes, now she's listening… And she speaks too, finally, to me:

~/Eva, what have I done to you?/~ her transmission is calmer but also defeated.

I’m about to say _“Nothing"_ , but I wonder for a moment, and it is NOT _nothing_ really, it is something, she could have even killed me in her frenzy, she did not know what she was doing, and how vulnerable I am…

But before I make up my mind to say anything, she continues ~/He…/~ she points her eyes at Ratchet ~/looks like one of them… those… who… who… whom I tried hard to forget. That sign… that sign on his armour, that marking.../~ I turn around, and I can see the symbol that I somehow did not notice before, a bear face cast in geometry, it reminds me of nothing… ~/I thought… I couldn't remember but… when I saw him… with this sign… I remembered… it was them… those with that mark and their humans, they… mutilated me… they made me… they forced me to… my mind… my memory… my… they did… I… I… Eva, forgive me, I lost it…/~

…and despite the narrowness of the girder and the risk to fall I creep over to her and wrap my arms around her, in another weak hug, the strongest one I manage with my ribs likely broken. I hold her for a long moment of silence pressing my face to her hard armour and singing my field's mute song of safety, even if I am not sure anymore. Because now she needs my warmth and treatment that can be provided by Ratchet and… I have to sort it out somehow. I’ll have to…

~/It's alright, my Sparklight… Look… you… are not lame anymore… look at your wings, feel them. Look, how you were climbing, it was sheer acrobatics… Not with the feelers but with your arms… You can use them now… Look at me…/~ I hold her face in my hands ~/They work, they are healing. If you let them help you, you might start to transform again, not just once but always…/~ I risk to say, I don't know how much she was broken and how Ratchet fixed her, but even I can see improvement, and I know from June that he worked on Sparklight most of the time since he brought us here. Whatever his reasons are, he seems to have spent long hours and days even, with June's help when she could.

Her eyes are glittering strangely. I know it’s still not alright. She said what she said, now she’s silent…

~/Sit down/~ I say softly to her and try to help her settle more stable, into at least a bit of comfort and to avoid the risk of us both falling from under the factory ceiling. Although, as a flying creature, she might not suffer from fear of heights, I’ve got enough imagination for both of us… ~/Sit down, here, like this, your arms are trembling./~ I whisper to her and run my hand along her wing, thinking deeply.

What she just did mirrored so much the way I acted, when I flipped the bed over me yesterday. The moment of stubborn panic… Crazy, unreasonable, frantic… Each of us driven by her own trauma… I reflect. Are we more alike than I thought?

~/Are you sure we are safe here?/~ she utters to me, her eyes looking helpless. What can I say to be honest?

~/I am not fully sure, but for now, I’m not so concerned. We need some time and we are both injured. Those two here, June and Ratchet, they are friendly. They helped me. We should… avoid making them hostile…/~ I look at her again and seek understanding in those eyes full of worry. Then I follow her gaze down to the nurse and the medic, but they are not there anymore. They stepped aside to pretend they're doing something else, chatting. Giving us space, not watching, not chasing, not gaping at us with open mouth, just being around in a safe distance. _Hopefully not calling for help…_ I stifle the thought and look at June, the wonder woman. No… she wouldn't do it to me. No. I hardly know her, but… I have to hold on to something. I hold on to my tail that tells me: she wouldn't do this to me… would she?

I briefly meet her eyes, and she smiles to me. Amazing, she still feels like smiling… I nod slowly. It seems things are under control. I look back at Sparklight, sitting bent down and tired. She does not speak, does not move, drowned in her thoughts again. It is high time we descended from these factory heights. I need her to help me, I'm too small and too hurt, to climb down from where we are on my own. I cannot ask Ratchet to help me down from here either, I fear she’d freak out and do something untamed again. So I have only one option.

~/Let's go down/~ I suggest. She does not react at first. I see the reluctance in her eyes. I don't think she sees the purpose. She'd have to deal with them, do something. And that's the last thing she needs now… At least that's my way of thinking. God only knows what her train of thoughts is. She will not speak to them anyway, I am more than sure. And they won't understand her thoughts either. So it is again all down to me. Me, the one smashed in the middle, with guts ground to a pulp of meat.

I'm not sure I can even stand up. So, in an impulse, I decide to try. Maybe that'll get her going.

~/Let's go down/~ I repeat and try to get up… I stand on my feet lamely… Holding onto her shoulder, I put the weight on my soles… At first, I feel nothing, but then, with a delay of a few moments…

The bruised pain that has been lurking there slightly, suddenly bursts into fire and hits my feet with full strength. My body weight smashes what’s left between me and the cold gantry. I lose balance and I falter, hit by agony that shoots through me without warning. My sore mouth moans a short growl. It's no longer the factory hall but the ceiling and the rusty windows that I'm seeing in movement. My stomach clings to my heart but I can’t do nothing. It’s done. I’m over. I’m falling. For a split moment I'm weightless, my hair spread out in the air, flying… down to the concrete ground… Another strike of pain stops me abruptly. Sparklight. Her feelers. As usual. She grabs me and holds me from falling. She sways on her perch for a second dragged by the weight of my body but then she regains her footing. Her eyes blink red-blue at me. _What was the term Ratchet used for her, a carrier?_ I gasp for a deep breath, and exhale almost choking. My head’s still spinning…

The sudden commotion draws June and Ratchet to turn and look back at us. A few drops of thick dark blood drip through grated metal platforms, right at their feet.

I look amazed through my swaying vision, trying to trace the drops falling down, and I note, fascinated, that the blood is still red. _I am a human..._ I feel like laughing loudly, but I control myself, and I stop after a short chuckle. It is not the right moment for me to go crazy. To swipe the world with mad eyes like Sparklight… To laugh on the verge of crying… Save me my cortisol, save me adrenaline! Hold me together…

But it’s not the adrenaline, it is Sparklight. She holds me softly to her chest. Now I am back in the role of a treasure. Her eyes are thoughtful, finally… She is starting to become the Sparklight I know.

~/You're right, we're going down./~ she tells me, and she starts descending. She's climbing off the grated pillar in a bit of a distance from our hosts, making Ratchet uneasy, not stopping on her way next to them. Finally, she stands on the concrete, bent down to the floor, unsure. I feel her itch to escape. But she withstands, she won't even blink to show it. I've grown in certainty, that if not for me, she would have taken off out of here five times. Is it true that she can't transform? Could she feel it, could she diagnose the malfunction or did she have to just believe it same as I did in the moment Ratchet said it? Or did she not try just because I asked her…? Would she indeed fall apart? Her need to break free is so powerful. It almost fills me with guilt...

June is the first next to us, Ratchet let her in front despite that he could make it with one jump. I'm sure he's not happy to let his small friend deal with the mad silent winged creature, so much bigger and seemingly dangerous. Yet, he allows her to approach us. She doesn't even need to look in detail, she knows what's up with my feet instantly. I think I know it too… She gives me a brief glance and then, unthreatened, she touches Sparklight's wing. My demon freezes in dread but does nothing. Can she, too, obey June's magic? The nurse looks at her for a slight moment then she says to the air around us.

“Can you please bring Eva back to the medbay?”

Both Sparklight and Ratchet react as if she said it to them. Yet, one grisly glance from Sparklight stops him. She doesn’t trust him. She trusts none of them. He steps back again like a wise man, he lets her carry me, following us in a distance, ready to intervene, cursing wordlessly… _Slagging carriers and symbionts…_ _Fragging symbiosis…_

How do I know it though he says nothing?

So, again I am carried. My dream is to walk on my own. My dream is to move my body swiftly, to let it free, let it run, make it dance. I roll my eyes but say nothing. My life is laughing at me.

Sparklight brings me back to "our" bed, and she puts me down on the stained sheets. Hardly anyone says anything, but the way they look at each other is stifling, it makes me even more tired as if I wasn't drained already…

Sparklight keeps close to me. She does not move away by a step, she's like my shadow. She climbs on the bed next to me and kneels behind, in full guard. I feel somewhat secure to have her, but her fear clings to my body like wet fog. Is it really so safe as I thought this morning? ...and am I safe with her?

An anxious thought circles in my mind. Have I humanised her too much? Or is this perhaps just the symbiont-carrier relationship that holds us together, whatever that means for real? Or is it my falling in love blindly? In someone that does not even know what it means… to fall in love.

Waiting for June to prepare some scary tools that she needs to fix me, I peek at Sparklight. She is tense. Very tense, observant. Wild… A wild creature, an animal locked in a cage. She patrols the room with a laser gaze full of suspicion, her eyes are deeply red with the blue pushed aside, deeper. She doesn't speak, even to me. Her long fingers lie rolled up into loose fists on the bed covers, trembling invisibly, so that only my tail can see it. I'm sure all her senses are running at full speed, whatever senses she has. She must have scanned and mapped the whole building by now, and she surely knows what June and Ratchet are saying, who else might be in the premises, where the way out is… She is like a ticking bomb, an overstretched guitar string close to break and whip anybody that dares to touch it…

Even I don't dare to touch it. I sit next to her and… I feel uncomfortable. My adrenaline is down, and my body is a total mess. Everything… is not right again. I should be happy - she woke up, she is alive, she is with me, but there's so much doubt that invades me.

She… Although she sits there behind me, really near, but she’s so far away, tense, traumatised, battle-ready. She seems to be galaxies away, much further away than when I held her unconscious hand in the night. And she divided the air between everybody: to them and us, me and her, June and Ratchet… She accused them of unnamed sins, without saying nothing. She has implanted mistrust. She unearthed those worries that Ratchet was raising when I was still in coma… Those that June did not like to hear. Were they enemies in that war? I know _none_ of them really. Am I… trapped?

I am also a bit angry. All this happened just when I started getting friendly. When I have begun feeling safe, getting used to… to my new form, to my disfigured body, to the unknown in my fate… But now, her fear is radiating, and it takes away any light from the tunnel.

She implied great harms and pain inflicted by someone… similar to Ratchet? She said almost nothing, but the way she panicked... I saw before that she didn't care much for normal pain. She had control of her body and could take much, I presumed. So what have they done to her to cause such trauma? What was that she suffered so badly to lose her senses and try to flee like a wolf from a bear trap? Ready to bite her own leg off? Who did that? Someone from Ratchet's army? With the same rank or sign? June told me they were warriors fighting a civil war over their homeland. _We, humans, know well too much about it_ \- she said, and I saw she kept preaching to Ratchet that the war was over. Was Sparklight involved in the fight? She acted like a freaked out ferret, on the run from a torture cage, skinned alive... I shiver badly.

So far I trusted her blindly. Now she looks like an attack-ready warframe. Forced to sit here, as my bodyguard, who might perhaps not even listen to me, who just won’t let them _take me_ , no matter dead or alive…

What was I thinking when I first engaged in this drama? Dear God, where have I ended up…? I do not want to be kept imprisoned between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea. My whole life… Where is my life? Even the silly dream I had in my slumber, about us two being just girls in the park. Yeah. I am so hopelessly stupid. I am so intellectually lame, emotionally overgrown… It destroys me. I hate myself… And I'm drowning. This time with no light in the tunnel, all cards on the table. In a deadlock…

Ratchet keeps a distance from us, helping June. They talk quietly. Everyone's avoiding the mad Sparklight. Not even looking her way. He crouches next to his nurse and speaks with her face to face, lips to ear, closing the gap between them, keeping it low. I don't even listen to their words, although my tail would easily hear it. But right now I'm too tired to bother. I just listen to the melody of their whispers, and I start missing something. The way I was missing Sparklight when she was away from me. But now she is here… What am I missing?

At first, I don't know what's this feeling that bugs me. I've been through too much torment, my kernel is disoriented. But then, looking at them, catching the tone of their voices, the strong mute understanding, the bond between them, I realise, it is sadness.

I look back again at Sparklight. She's lost somewhere deep in her thoughts. Her mind flying away from me. Does she listen? Does she feel me? Does this all show in my field? Or is her panicked alertness pushing away everything else? Her eyes look sharp but yet blinded. I slump deeper into the cage of my aching ribs. A cold shiver shrinks my skin that wraps me tightly, it is too small for me. Suddenly my feet start hurting badly, my stomach screams of pain. But most of all, the reality catches up with me. Sadness and loneliness, my best friends. I should have known they are the only ones I can rely upon. I should have seen it coming. Yes, I was stupid. Every belief is stupid. Every hope is insane.

Freedom is born where hope dies...

"Eva? How are you holding up?" - June's calm voice flows from a distance, it's waking me up from my thoughts - "Look, I have to clean it, remove some dead tissue, stitch it up if I can. And… not only the feet but the stomach, you got blood stains on your dress... I need to check it." - She gazes mixed up at Sparklight, and I have no choice but to acknowledge it. I've given up already... - "We might have to sedate you. At least partially, to spare you more pain…" - she says looking at me. I nod.

“It’s fine, I thought so... Just do what you have to do… just patch me up.” - I say resigned ignoring Sparklight behind me.

 _“No”_ \- I hear at the same moment. A long feeler sneaks along my back, and it clicks into my neck. She doesn't ask me permission, and I’ve got no time to react. In an instant, I float in immense goodness. ~/No.../~ I try to raise myself, pull her feeler out of me, but she won't let me ~/Sparklight, don't do this…/~ I whisper, but I'm in paradise already. God in good heavens how I missed it... My soul drowns in the waves of her waters…

 _“Do not sedate her. She will feel nothing. I… got this.” -_ the strangest voice of my demon freezes all life in the air. My head falls dizzy onto her lap. I’m already sedated. By her loveliest poisons. Those that make me belong…

“How can we know this for sure?” - it is Ratchet.

The world is swaying. No… I don’t want it… I don’t want sacrifice… I just want the touch of her hand… in place of her sudden coldness…

 _“Just trust me. I trust you too, as you see.”_ \- deep silence falls for a second. Yet her voice still echoes, soundwaves bumping against the tall walls, resounding: sharp, ugly, heavy, strangest on Earth - _“You can test it. Ask her what she is feeling.”_

I look at them with wide open drugged eyes. I don’t know what to say. I’m overdosed with immense goodness and yet I feel like crying. The world doesn’t love me. It keeps swaying and strangling my throat with sadness. I am truly a thing. A rag doll that doesn’t matter and can be just pushed around, thrown to a corner. I want to disappear. Out of here, out and away. All alone in my sorrow. But then I see a glimpse of June’s worried face. June… the wonder woman…

"It's true… I can feel no pain." - I stammer quietly - "Sparklight feels it for me." - I murmur and close my eyes. I don't know anything. The world does not love me… it goes black leaving me empty. In a dim reflex, I press my cheek to Sparklight’s hard thigh armour and breathe in her dark honey smell.

The world does not love me…

I know nothing.

Beep peeb beep peeb beep peeb…


	18. Collision Course

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Collision Course](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mook5qYTjNc)  
>  Sounds of the music played by the air.

 

~/Hey/~ is it Sparklight?

I open my eyes, still in slumber. Her face is above me, her eyes flicker. My wild friend is smiling, I could say, ear to ear…

~/Good morning/~ she says in joyful transmission as I half-open one eye a bit wider and look at her. This joy that I feel is spreading all around us, and I don't understand it clearly. What is it? Is she *happy*? I open the other eye wider. My gaze swipes the room. We are in the same factory hall I woke up last (?) morning, with the same ceiling, dirty golden windows letting the sun in at a strange angle… The same large makeshift bed is now pushed to the wall, and I am lying in it, in a warm, soft duvet. Likely the same one too… Yet it all looks somewhat smaller… and cosier. Nicer. With the dust dancing in the sunbeams, everything seems safe and familiar.

~/Do you need to wee?/~ she asks casually before I get to reply good morning.

~/Wee?/~ I glare at her startled not sure if I understood. She’s smiling.

~/Drain off used fluids? Remove toxic residue? Anything like that? You slept for quite long, you may need to…/~

I shake my head looking at her, my brain has not yet started working. Or have I misheard?

~/What… wee…?/~ I search myself for the answer which should be simple but it’s not ~/I… don’t know?/~ I decide finally, still glaring at her clearly happy face. She tilts her head a little.

~/I know where the toilet is, I can show you. Or bring you there. June said you might need it to use it, but you should not walk yet on your own…/~

~/…yes… no… maybe later? It feels like I haven’t been eating or drinking nothing for ages and my system… stopped processing./~

~/Exactly. Then we'll try later./~ she says confidently, and I zoom in at her face. Gosh, she is serious. Really. ~/Look here, I got something for you./~ Only now I notice that she's holding a steaming cup in her hands.

~/What is it?/~ I rub my eyes, still doubting if it’s not a dream.

~/Green tea straight from Japan. It’s supposed to be good./~ she reaches out the mug to me. I raise my head from the pillow, even more astonished. Dear Lord, she’ll never cease to surprise me… The smell reaches my senses. I sniff…

~/Sencha? /~ I’m not sure if it’s my nose (do I have one?) or my tail that tells me, but it’s true. There is tea… and something else smelling food near me.

~/June thought you would like some… and helped me brew it. And… you need to eat too. Or, for the time being, drink food. Breakfast. It should get your peripherals working. Ehm… that is your digestive tract…/~

I shake my head in doubt, still looking at her wide-eyed. All that she says sounds like science fiction. I don’t know where to start asking…

~/June? You made me breakfast with June??? Like: you two made it together?/~ My eyes slide to the night table nearby. There’s a bowl full of something that smells like chicken broth. I try to sit up, but she's faster.

~/Let me help you/~ and before I react, her feelers sneak under the duvet, coil around me carefully, and lift me up to sit leaning against the wall. Gently, as if she was made of fluff and not hardware... They tickle slightly through the night gown, and even if I try not to admit it, it's pleasant.

I can't believe in this scene, the frantic memories from the last day seem so completely unreal. The eyes of Sparklight above me are normal, red-blue, shiny. No signs of madness, no frenzy… And the way she is acting, the things she's saying, though somewhat unusual… Well, it is still Sparklight. So it's not like everything's a dream. She must be real, I reckon. Hmm...

~/Here you go, before it gets cold./~ she reaches out the cup to me, and I take it, I try it… it's so damn good, aromatic. Not an artificial mixture from a supermarket, but the real stuff, imported, not fake, with the smell of sunshine and light shade of gold. I would drink all of it in one gulp but Sparklight's impatient. She takes the cup from my hands and gives me the bowl instead. I smell it. The scent is wonderful… It makes my mouth water.

~/It smells good…/~

~/June showed me how to make it. We cooked it… together, I guess. Although I’m still not good at it. So far I only baked fish in a fire with you… I don’t know much about food. I wasted a few ingredients at first, but peeling and cutting seemed fun and easy./~

~/How did you…/~ I stare at her, gaping as if I saw a ghost.

~/She also brought eggs, and other things, you will have them soon when you're better. You can't eat solid foods right now, you've been empty for too long, your system would reject them, but… those… eggs, they are really amusing! I saw them on the internet before but the real ones! One had two cores, can you believe it? They would be two little chickens if we let them grow…/~

~/… little chickens…/~ I repeat after her, with my eyes wide open and she continues enchanted.

~/It's amazing! It seemed I learnt all that in theory but did not realise anything, they are so round and fragile… and they can transform when heated, sort of, anyway, they change their state into solid and/~ she chirps on clearly captivated ~/…and still provide nutrition. There are so many kinds of food, and all smells are so different, I tried to taste them, compare them, I guess I would really like it, to learn it, all those flavours, no wonder you want to eat… Energon has few types only, and all that junk we waste our sensors on is tasteless in comparison… it is truly not worth it. I could be eating and eating, if only I had where to store it, how to process it…/~ her eyes glimmer dreamy. She seems like a three-year-old toddler who's just seen a frog or patted a cat for the first time or tasted a lemon and instead of crying chuckled at all new experience. Is this my Sparklight? I hardly believe it. Tasting eggs? Cutting veggies? Getting friendly with June? Babbling like a child, in long phrases? Has she said this many words in total since I met her? Am I dreaming?

~/So, for you, just fluids for now. June says your stomach is functional, just on halt, in a freeze mode, and you need something small to get it going./~ she explains like a mentor, and I almost hear June's voice through her. It makes me strangely relaxed, and, me too… I begin smiling.

~/If June says so…/~ I look at her. The bowl is lukewarm already, but I'm so empty too. It smells delicious.

I dip the spoon in the golden liquid. Before I begin, I double check: my tongue is still there, operational, but the teeth feel different. I slide it along their edges and almost cut it. They are sharper and likely of metal or graphene (is that what Ratchet said?), or maybe still mixed with bone, I have no clue whatsoever. Who cares. I'm not going to chew broth with them… I put a spoonful in my mouth. It tastes… like the one Ingebjörk used to make. It suddenly makes me hungry like a wolf, and I start devouring it greedily. I put the spoon aside and I down the liquid, gulp by gulp, feeling how the tasty soup flows through my throat to my stomach, filling it, tickling inside…

Sparklight is watching amused, I dare to say - delighted. I remembered her looking at me with the same expression when I ate the fish she caught in the river…

~/It’s different than energon, is it? And the way your body can process it… It’s amazing!/~

~/It’s good! And you…/~ I swallow the last of it, hungrily and look at her curious, disbelieving ~/you were talking and cooking with June, just like that?/~

~/Yes./~ she nods as if nothing strange happened, no nightmare escape, no hurting, no bleeding...

~/Did you *talk* with her? Using sounds?/~ I cannot truly get it.

~/Not all the time using sounds… well, yes a little/~ she looks at me a bit uncertain. ~/But we managed, she's intelligent. I don't need to say much to be understood./~

I have a feeling I’m dreaming. My tight stomach clenches around its new content, but the overall feeling is wonderful.

~/Is everything alright with you Sparklight?/~ I ask, full of doubt.

~/It’s all good, it’s great in fact/~ her eyes almost glitter and I wonder if that may be some sort of fever… Or a new madness type? Delirium? Mania…?

~/You… did not trust them. Remember? Why the change? Cooking… Speaking?/~ I push it curious, almost jealous.

She gazes, thoughtful, at me as I lick off the bowl's inside. She looks like she's witnessing magic. It's far from my dreamt-of normalcy, but it feels so… astonishing at the same time. I can also see that she smiles shyly as if embarrassed a little.

~/As we decided to stay here/~ she says finally ~/I had to work it out somehow. It’s been… a logical course of action./~

~/Logical? To start to trust them? After the way you panicked? What’s changed?/~ I think to her.

~/It was not logical to trust as such, but it made sense to find out more, wait and see as much as was needed to reach all the planned objectives, and then perhaps take a decision./~

~/Planned objectives?/~

~/I will show you something./~ She almost whispers, secretive. I look now even more curious at her. She gets up from her place and walks to the sunlit hall centre. I watch her sharp lithe silhouette, and for the hundredth time I think she is beautiful and so alien, so much more alien than Ratchet, her movements are both light and heavy, her body slim but powerful, her limbs mechanical but alive. Her armour is matte as velvet, but an ethereal glow surrounds her, maybe much more than ever. I think about it and wonder what is that makes all the difference, what is that her field tells me. Perhaps for the first time, I recognise relief and lightness in her… She looks so much healthier. What on Earth have they done to her? How much time has passed since the last time I was up and conscious?... All those changes…

She turns around to me in some distance, she looks at me with her eyes splashing colour, and… She disappears. That is… Her current form disappears. A whirlwind of metal shards in her place bursts with reflections of sunlight, like a broken mirror, disintegrating, changing, and reaching a shape again… a new form of a beautiful, sleek jet-like aircraft hovering overground. It is not any type of aircraft that I have seen even on movies, but it's got wings and a body and a tail. It is light, completely silent and it seems to have no propulsion, no fire streaming from its engines… yet it floats gently in the air. Against physics? Against laws of nature… At least those that I know.

“WOW” - I gape at the view and I cannot believe it, although I saw it once before. I’ve almost forgotten she could do it. Sparklight, a jet creature, a perfect unmanned aerial vehicle… Fully transformed, spotless, amazing… Incredible!

~/Ratchet fixed me!/~ she announces joyfully, and I am breathless. I have never heard her like this, I realise… it's the first time I can see her happy. Her thoughts are smiling, her field is glittering, like that sunshine that surrounds her…

~/WOW/~ I repeat in our wordless channel.

~/Almost... But it works! He is a genius… I'm not entirely ready, but what the heck, I had to show you…/~

She glides slowly through the air of the factory hall, raising particles of dust that dance above the floor for a moment, in almost total silence… She's heading right towards me, on a collision course… in slow motion. Stunned, I watch her approaching, the bowl falls out off my hands with a cling of the porcelain against metal…. The imagined vision of her flying speeds up in my head for a slight moment, and I see what could happen if she were a proper engine-propelled jet… kinetic energy at full power and… Bah! There's a concrete wall just behind me… what colour would I give it? Red or blue ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...?

I shake the thought off from my head, it's stupid, I don't need it. Instead, I wonder, what is the force of nature that lets her float in the air like that? There's not even a slight air blow, almost no sound but a soft hum, nothing is disturbing the calmness of the place and the morning… Ratchet's engine(?) purred and murmured a little when he changed into a truck. Is that some antigrav wonder that she uses to fly? What is she made of? This creature, this sleek, smooth alien bird-machine that I'm seeing, is not mimicking anything built by humans. She is what she is… not a thing fake about that.

~/WOW, you are… WOW/~ my thoughts say on my behalf when she slows down to a halt almost poking my chest with her jet-like nose. Floating in the air, smiling invisibly. I reach out my hand and touch her… I stroke her on the jet-head like she was a pet… She's slightly warm, and she seems to love the gesture… Is that you in there my Sparklight? It feels so surreal!

The next moment, still under the touch of my hand she turns back to her humanoid shape. The same magical dance unfurls… I still cannot see which part goes where and how is that at all possible. And how does she manage to do it so precisely not to hit me, scratch me, or even touch the bed that I sit on? It seems an explosion of power… So much movement in one moment, all changes condensed in one. Will I ever wrap my head around it? Her swift and seamless dance is so beautiful yet so short that I hardly register when I have her standing before me again. Standing, practically leaning over me, just at the verge of my bed, tall, lithe, powerful, her light glowing, her hands supported on the sides of my thighs, where she landed after the transformation, to stabilise herself, to… The empty soup bowl slides off my knees to the bed sheets, and I just can't stop staring into her eyes that emerge out of all that wonder…

~/How… how did you do this? You demon… you're… amazing…/~ my thoughts say of themselves, and I can't take my eyes off her completely, enchanted by her shapely silhouette, her dark matte, strangely gleaming face, by the mystifying colours of her eyes, by her smile… all that just above me… almost reachable, near. And there's indeed a wall behind me… The concrete wall that is _waiting_ for the heat of my back to be pushed against it, for the pressure of her kinetic energy to be shared with my body, for my spine blades to rise, scratch it, cut through it, for the tail to whip it, for my hands to be caught in hers, pressed against the cold cement…

She lowers her head slightly over me as if she were reading my thoughts. The thoughts that I did not tell her, but that must reveal through my eyes, my face, my field and my smell… A slight blow of her air reminds me I have to keep on breathing. I gasp silently not to break the moment, but then she rises herself slightly from above me as if scared a little by that boldness, by that physicality. And I panic that she might withdraw, even if reluctantly… _No! Don’t go away… kiss me…_ Before I know my tail sneaks out from under the duvet and wraps tightly around her wrist. All my remaining old skin is in goosebumps, all my new skin is in shiver. Though it is deadly silent, I feel the air playing music. One that makes your body react to its vibe and rhythm, though you do not even know why and how. And I react the same to her. It is not cold, but I'm shivering, it is not hot, but I'm sweating…

I'm so stuck gaping into her eyes that I don't know what it is that touches my chin and lifts it up a bit, is it her hand or her feeler, but it's terrific. I tighten the grip of my tail on her wrist and forearm, and she lowers herself, deeper, closer, arms bent, leaning on elbows, forearms reaching around me… her lips slightly open, breathing, heated, delectable, just a millimetre from mine... mine, that are still human, like I wanted, still soft and fleshy, with a wet, ready, impatient tongue inside, tasting the hot, burning breath I can't control anymore. I fight the urge to close my eyes, awaiting...

“Good morning… is everything all… oh!” - June’s voice cuts the silence and makes all dust bits of magic fall from the air to the ground. We both jump up like on fire, as if we were burned with hot water, or if a bomb exploded.

Before I even see what happened, I hear a cling of metal.

“Hey, June, what’s the commotion? Why are you walking backwards?” - Ratchet’s voice flows from behind her. I want to look at them but when I’m turning my head, in slow motion, I feel Sparklight’s whisper inside me.

~/You’re delightful even when you’re just breathing…/~

It melts me down in one second, making me weak, soft and fainted, itching my guts and watering my mouth in one instant, again, I'm losing my breath… At the same time, she turns away quickly but not at all far from me. My tail's still wrapped around her hand, and she squeezes her fingers around it, holding it like an end of a whip, not letting it go against all reason…

She sits lightly on the bed next to me, the metal frame moans under her weight. I see her smiling to them, saying hello through that smile. The scene is ludicrous. I'm all soft and melted and super-stressed at the same time. Damn… she is such a demon… I'm leaning against the wall not able to say anything, to even move, my head goes round. Why did she say it to me? They haven't heard it for sure, but I cannot… I'm… It's making me… vulnerable… excited… I want her too much… She can't tease me like this when they are here… Doesn't she understand? What will they… what… Ah…

"You stepped on my toe June" - Ratchet laughs wholeheartedly, and I see how he helps her not to trip up and stagger from the unexpected impact.

"Yes, right, I tried to…" - she stammers and then laughs suddenly - "you were following me, gotcha!" - she looks up above her to meet his shiny blue eyes. They smile to each other, so warmly… And then she turns back to me.

“Good morning” - her smile is even wider - “How was your breakfast? I can’t give you yet anything else but the broth, but it will come. Sparklight’s got some tricks up her sleeve for the next days to come. Did you know that she’s actually a good cook?”

Ratchet cackles loudly while I collect myself and smile back, trying to get myself up from that half-lying position, shaking off my sweet weakness, with the world still slightly swaying. To no surprise, Sparklight's hand (the one wrapped in my tail) comes to aid unrequested. I reflect: given so much attention soon I will not know how to walk on my own…

“It was excellent, I ate everything” - I peep, my throat still somewhat stuck.

“Good, your wife here tried really hard to make it right” - This time it is Ratchet.

 _… my wife? -_ I want to ask if he's serious or joking, but instead, I choke slightly and bite my tongue.

I almost hear Sparklight cackle aloud from behind my back. She is way too close to me for the "just friends" standard, at least in the human terms, touching me, stroking my neck with her feeler under cover of my hair… And I bet if she were closer to my size, she would kiss me secretly, entirely in their plain sight, as if she was really my _wife_ …

~/What did you tell them in the name of heavens?/~I dare ask her just between the two of us.

~/I did not have to tell them nothing. They are smart, they connect we are bonded, like a carrier and a symbiont… It's just… self-evident. It was logical not to deny it./~

~/Logical…/~ I cannot stop my sarcasm ~/everything is logical for you…/~

~/Isn’t it? But you want me to stay here with you, don’t you? It’s logical…/~

I go sulky. If I search inside me, I cannot say no to that question. I was fighting for it so fiercely…

~/Ok, you win/~ I sigh internally and turn my eyes back at them after this short exchange which for them must sound like a moment of silence. There is no use to discuss with her right now though I have thousands of things on my mind.

"I… did not know if I should be eating... you know, normal food and such. I… got lost a little in what's happening with me." - I say quickly and neurotically, I start searching around with my hand for the soup bowl that got lost in the bedsheets. It seems I'm the only one nervous around. They all seem… so relaxed, at ease and completely not bothered with the fact that Sparklight is now embracing me openly with her wing, helping me lean on her chest. I give up.

As much as she makes me dizzy, I totally don't get what is happening. Despite her logic I still don't understand her, I don't grasp the whole situation… Last time, if I remember correctly, I passed out into dark dungeons of sadness, after the horror of the failed escape. And now, here, she's happy like on drugs, June and Ratchet totally don't mind her, he calls her my wife for a joke (???), June teams up with her to make food for me… And how the heck would they know I would wake up exactly now, to have the warm broth ready? I look up at my demon above me and her eyes glitter. No. I'm just too confused. I turn my gaze away, I cannot look up longer because I instantly feel like kissing her, and that is not at all right. Damn. She's even more beautiful when she's happy…

In the meantime, Ratchet pulls near a big box on which he sits while June takes a chair. What is it, a family reunion? And who am I, a daughter who came back drunk from a party in the early morning and brought a stoned girlfriend with her instead of a good old shit-faced boyfriend, and now there is time for preaching…?

"How are you doing? Still very tired?" - that is June looking at me - "It seems you woke up now for good. I will need to take a few tests in a moment" - she looks deep in my eyes, and then takes my still human left hand in hers and measures my pulse (!!!) - "you were out for quite some time, I didn't even expect you'd be sitting up so fast after waking… but then, you are part-Cybertronian, it gives you quite some magic."

"How long was I… out?" - I ask, blurrily remembering the taste of the sweet poisons Sparklight pumped into me to put me to sleep.

"It'll be…" - she counts on her fingers - "around four days…"

“What??!!”

"But this time it was not really coma. We did not even sedate you. It was mostly a good rest. You slept most of the time, and your body was healing. We had to stitch you up, and then you rested as much as was needed. You even woke up a few times, for a moment or two." - they glance at each other, then at Sparklight. I remember nothing totally.

"You three, you three operated me? Stitched me up? Like, how exactly?" - I feel some sort of anger growing inside me, but I still don't let it out. I don't remember bloody anything and yet my body… seems to be getting better and… maybe I should check what it is like now… That's all like a scene from a horror, my imagination flies. Them three leaning above me on a surgical table, hospital lamps above me, lab equipment, robots, white aprons. Needles and pipes. Me as an alien test subject…

"Well, this and that had to be fixed… you see, you contain a lot of… things inside you. We will have some spare time, we'll tell you everything in detail. Later, but now the good news is that you're alright and you're healing. As for the transformation, you will live in this current form at least a few more days, maybe weeks. Your human organs are not damaged, they just change very slowly to a versatile form. After a few weeks, you'll be able to fully exercise your alt mode without damage. I guess." - Ratchet says - "You're really quite advanced already. And truth to be told, it is amazing, and genuinely unheard of."

 _...right. Well. I did not sign any permission… but I got a wife here to do it for me, don’t I…_ I get to be bitter. Who let them meddle with my body, my life? The hell with the transformation… Something swells in me badly.

In the meantime June continues the simple check-up, looking at the basics of basics, confirming that I am alive, explaining what they did to me.

They checked which skin still lived on me and what was already dead.  
What had to be removed,  
replaced with the nanities gel fake-skin,  
and how they did not cut my hair (???),  
although it would be easier to shave it,  
to let the other ear out,  
yet they managed with shaving it only a little,  
and that I got a whole new hearing system,  
and why they could not do specific tests because of all the metal in me,  
and that ultrasound is working very well on my soft tissues…  
They checked all my organs to see if there weren't any damage,  
and the spark,  
my spark,  
the second line of life,  
it grows safely, nicely,  
a solid bit of blue crystal encased in a tightly fit casing filled with energon plasma,  
it sits well,  
they said to me,  
just below here,  
next to here,  
between the heart and the stomach,  
taking some space from the lungs…  
Hence  
I might feel something weird there,  
like strange tickling,  
pressure,  
trouble breathing,  
but it’s no problem,  
it’s alright,  
it's normal,  
it’ll pass,  
I’ll be fine…

Finally, the talk is ended. June grabs the empty soup bowl and she laughs. She sort of *winks* at Sparklight who *winks* back at her, and I can't believe again what I'm seeing, while my head is turning from one to the other, surprised…

"I'll be back in a bit, we'll try to plan some physiotherapy for you to get you back on track. Now your feet are better adjusted to walking, and you have so much more graphene in you that will hold you together, so it'll not gonna be so easy to harm yourself like before, but still… Remember not to try to change shape. Yet. Keep being human… Sparklight can show you to the toilet if you need it. She's feeling so much better too, you can ask her everything, she can help you, bring you things. Now, if you excuse me, I have to leave for a while, but in the afternoon we'll do a proper check-up, and I will explain a few things. Now take your time, Eva, and don't strain yourself…"

They say a few more things about nothing, but I seem too overwhelmed to reply anything sensible. Finally, they leave us alone. The door shut behind them, a few instants of silence hang heavy, and then I burst like a toxic bomb:

~/What?? How?? Why??  
Four days, another four days in coma?!!!  
They did not have to sedate me?  
You took it all on you when they cut me and stitched me!  
What is it, you like it or what?  
Why did you make all that hassle, that panic, that hysteria, trying to run for your life, afraid like if all devils chased you?!  
Harming me, harming yourself, not giving a fuck...  
And then you let yourself suffer pain, be hurt, just like that?  
What is your logic?!!  
Do they know, do they know what your trick is?  
Are you crazy?  
Insane?  
And since when are we a couple?  
You - my wife?  
That's purely ridiculous...!  
Was that a joke or what?  
Why do you play along?  
What does it mean we’re bonded?  
I’m bonded to no one!  
I’m better off alone…  
What did you, what did you tell them?!!  
Logic, your bloody logic…  
You agreed on nothing with me…  
How did you *talk* to them?  
Did you speak with your own voice?  
You did not want to speak to me!!  
How did he fix you so fast?  
After all that drama?  
What did he do to you,  
did he put you in stasis or did you…  
...let him cut you conscious?  
You must be out of your depth…  
One moment you’re ready to kill them the next you’re all friendly and smiles…?!  
How did you get suddenly so cordial with them?  
How did all this happen, why didn’t I know anything?  
Sleeping again for four days like an idiot, excluded from any decisions taken behind my back…  
How did you even know when to bring the breakfast…?  
Did you programme my sleep?  
Why don’t you ever ask my permission…?  
You just do what you want with me…  
You just do what you want with me…  
You just…  
do…  
what…  
you want…  
…  
with  
…  
…  
me…  
…  
…  
…/~

She still sits there where she was sitting, right behind me, now with her face in my hair. She waits until I finish shouting. She does not tell me to stop or calm down. She listens. She only hugs me lightly, not for show now, now she hugs me for real, sweetly, dearly, calmly. Until I slowly start weeping… Stiff, still rebellious, unhappy, weak...

~/What is this thing I'm becoming…? Why is this all happening? I don't even know what I look like…/~ I whine finally, and she moves closer, embracing me from behind, tighter, circling her feelers around me, wrapping me in her arms, and I become like a baby hidden on mother's lap. A helpless kitten… again. I curl-up a little firmer, minutes pass and even if I don't want it at first, her warmth, her gentle pulsation, the sweet hum of her circuits, they calm me.

~/You’re most beautiful on Earth/~ she says finally, in a soothing, warm, soft tone of her mind.

I reluctantly let my hand slide onto her feeler that coils around my waist. Why can't I ever resist her? And then she hugs me tighter, I feel her body around me, protective, dear and safe…

~/Whatever you decide, Eva, whatever the strange future brings us, I want you to know that I'm grateful. You saved my life at least three times. It's like if you gave me three lives./~ she whispers ~/You saved me away from confinement. It was too much to ask for already. But yet you answered my call without knowing what I was or asking anything in return.

~/You couldn’t have known that I was dying slowly. Of simple reasons like hunger and uncured wounds, that could easily be treated, but not there, not by myself alone, and not by a human. I believed I was doomed already and I just wanted it over, to finish the years-long torture. All I wished for then was to die in freedom, with remains of my dignity, in my true form, seeing the light again with my own eyes, not locked in a cage.

~/But it all turned out differently… you followed, you… gave me warmth, and, and I… was too scared to tell you. I did not know how to tell you… to leave me alone, to save yourself all this trauma, to come back to your life. And you were transforming already… You needed me. You got trapped… and I was such a coward…

~/But then, even more, I would have never expected that you would not let me go… Against all odds, against the clock ticking, you fed me with your blood and kept me alive for a moment longer by risking your frail human life. You did not let the thread get cut… And then you did the impossible and brought a Cybertronian medic - out of the blue, in the middle of nowhere… who did not abuse me but helped me. Even if I did not understand in the first moment and went panic…

~/And the third time, you saved me from my frenzy, from the hell of my madness and dread, for which… I beg your forgiveness. I was so blinded. I did not want to hurt you. That's the last thing I could ever allow in the world. I will let no one hurt you. I'm so sorry… You made all the right choices… You gave me three lives at least. Or… maybe much more than that.

~/So, at least I can repay you this little. By being your wife for a few moments… By learning to kiss you, caress you… By easing the pain that I caused you… Befriending your friends, bringing you tea… And all that… all that is by far too little… My dearest, my saviour, my spark…/~

She says it and then quiets down inside the room’s silence, rocking me gently in the rhythm of her body. Kissing my hair, stroking my head… Cuddling me.

And I see how the sun is shining at us at an angle, from a window on the side, it throws our shadows on the floor beside us. Not two shadows but just one, common, merged shadow. Warm from the light, and cold from the darkness… Me and her, the loveless beloved… I hug tighter to her arm that holds me, pressing myself to her body and rubbing my cheek on the hard armour. Not demanding any more answers. They will come. I just have to let them. In a minute, in an hour, in a day or a few… they will come. I just hold on to her for now. And I somehow know, I know again.

Whatever she did…  
I love her.

 

* * *

 

~/Sparklight…?/~

~/Mhm?/~

~/I think now I actually need to wee./~

~/:) <3 :* /~

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These were tough two weeks for me, and despite that, I managed to finish this chapter before my established weekend deadline... Maybe some level of toughness gives more inspiration to fix the world in a fic. Or maybe the chapter was just shorter than usual. Hopefully not less intense.
> 
> @[CloudNucleus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudNucleus/pseuds/CloudNucleus) and others who are making my day by expecting new chapters in time: on Sunday I fly to Japan for 3 weeks holidays and I am not sure how much will I be able to write. So if the update does not pop up in two weeks from this weekend it does not mean I have forgotten about Sparklight and Eva. I could never forget them. It might just take a little longer... Maybe 3-4 weeks from now, until I am back home and be able to post what I will scribble in dark evenings of different time zone and abandoned monuments of the lovely Japanese culture. Thank you for following my story <3
> 
> Finally, to give it full justice, I wanted to thank again [MirwenAnareth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirwenAnareth) \- for all your valuable advice, the sober look at the world and constant encouragement and support... and for secretly spotting my typos <3
> 
> And last but not the least, there are two ghost readers who make my day outside from the AO3 circles but always present deep in my heart: Ola K and Ola P. Big hugs for you sisters. I get all thrilled anytime you give me your impressions <3\. And I want more wine too :]
> 
> Now I really need to wee... and get some sleep too.


	19. Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for disturbing content.

_< Memory log: enabled  >_  
_< Machine learning: active  >_  
_< Commencing data retrieval  >  
_ _< … in progress  >_

_To be precise, gravity is not really a force that drags things with it. It is just how we simplify its meaning. It is just spacetime that's curved. Planets move in straight relative lines never pushed or pulled anywhere. They just follow the shape of spacetime. That's it… Whether they want it or not. They are not objects that float away as the universe extends. It is the spacetime that swells and makes everything seem more distant… Spacetime is in constant movement. Spacetime… seems to be alive. Isn't that scary?_

_< Processing data query  >_

_I was still young when I understood for the first time what it meant. I could not wrap my head around the conclusion, and I ended up crying._

_< Data consistency error detected: entry type not permitted  >_

_I don't understand, though, why I cried. I could barely sleep a few nights in a row, scared and enchanted at the same time. Maybe I was just thrilled and moved deeply by the greatness of the universe and the endlessness of nature. It was just the beginning of the road, though. My own non-understanding grew with age and my new knowledge. I was opening my eyes wider and wider with awe. The further I reached, the more the universe extended. Looking up at the sky gained a whole different meaning. It became… massive._

_< Data consistency error detected: warning - table format invalid.  >_

_The first law of cosmology states that all laws of nature are identical everywhere. That is literally *everywhere*. Even there, where we don’t know the “where” exists._

_< Warning: timestamps mismatch detected  >_

_Then, if my demon can fly in absolute silence and without putting anything else into motion, there must be a law for that. One that is universal. I don't know what that law is but… it is a miracle that I can touch its beholder with my bare lips on her naked chest._

_< Warning: entry not permitted  >_

_Why is my heart so heavy then? I feel gravity physically. Though it is just spacetime tying me to this place, its meanders feel suddenly too hard to comprehend, too difficult to imagine, too contradictory for the daily human experience._

_< System warning: content mismatch error  >_  
_< Uncontrolled loop detected  >  
_ _< Checking in progress…  >_

_For us, small creatures trapped in time, the fourth dimension, one that we cannot influence, gravity exists with all its ruthlessness and burden that it puts to all matter and energy…_

_< System warning: process corruption detected  >_

_No… that is not right… That is false, it cannot be correct… What’s going on with me? The world seems to be bending, the spacetime reverting, what is this background behind me? I can’t move. Why can’t I move?…_

_< Critical system warning: unidentified access detected - firewall violation  >_  
_< Abort data retrieval  >  
_ _< …processing  >_

_My head is so heavy. Something hurts… is it the half-metal transformable rib-cage overgrowing my chest planted on nanities' steroids?_

_< ...processing  >_

_Blop… blop… bling… bling… the sound is silver. Is it water dripping? In the depth of an abandoned mine, hundreds of meters down underground, where whispering voices of ghosts of dark water keep talking unlistened to. But… the drops are too heavy. It is dark, apart from the red and blue dots produced by the deep black in the eyes' background, false illusions generated by the brain deprived of any signals up to the level of statistical impossibility. The echo of past views and visions reduced to faint pixels, not larger than most distant stars in the sky running away across spacetime…_

_< Abort data retrieval: failed  >  
_ _< Retrying…  >_

_Ah, why didn’t I think of it? My eyes are simply closed. It was too easy… There must be some trick. I can open them. Can I? I can hear too. In fact I can really hear and even feel the dripping. It is blue and it’s itching along my neck, my back and my chest as well. And it… hurts when I think about it. As if I hit my head against something. Or were pushed my back against a wall… or a fence… Or… why am I so uncomfortable?_

_The world is too tight. It echoes with silence as if it was huge, but it’s an illusion..._

_“…Eva?”_

_It echoes..._

_“What is it that you hear Eva? What is it that you see…?”_

_Is that me? Am I talking to myself? Is that my echo?_

_< Data access blocked by third party protocol: access denied  >_  
_< Entering loop: reboot needed  >  
_ _< FileSystem.Kill  >_

_… wait! No!_

_I will answer the question…_

_< …manual override  >_  
_< Data content warning  >  
_ _< …accepted  > _

_So… I see… A war-torn city of concrete and metal, I see it but I know it is the wounded and scarred robot body of the woman that I… that… I love… What happened to her? What’s happening to me? Where is my voice? Why can’t I say my answer aloud? It is her wounded body I see, it is her, it is Sparklight…? And the blue is her blood dripping off me…_

_Or is it me?_

_Who asked the question? Why can't I get up? Something is pushing my head down… is it gravity? Or something too narrow, too heavy, too low… The discomfort… my knees, they are bent down, neither standing nor seating nor kneeling, they almost fall apart under pressure from above… it's wrong, it's all wrong, so wrong._

_It hurts._

_< System warning: critical alert! High sensory exposure: pain index: HIGH, sensory violation: HIGH, long term damage: HIGH, local structure and tissue damage: HIGH, psychological abuse index: HIGH, body parts deprivation: …  >_  
_< System shutdown required for self repair activation  >  
_ _< Self repair operational at 5% and falling … … … … … … failing… … …  >_

_No!_

_If I pass out now, I'll disappear..._

_< ...manual override  >_

_… wh… wh… what?_

_… what do you mean… who are you… what is this system? Not mine!_

"Is everything alright, Eva?... Eva?... Eva?... What's happening? Can you hear me?"

_Yes… I can… but… my head… my head is so heavy. June is that you?…_

_“June, June, I can hear you!”_

“Eva… … … … … … … … ing …. …. … …. … .. k up… …. … … igh … …. … ….”

_“I can’t hear you… June! Where are you?”_

_… ~/Sparklight… What is it? Where am I?/~_

_~/Help…/~_

_I remember a line of life jumping, up and down, frantically but weakly. Wrong. It’s wrong. Where am I? What is it that I hear? What is it that I see? Why is it dripping, is that my body?_

_I look closer._  
_I cannot see clearly,_  
_but I can see…_  
_I see a long-winged silhouette_  
_locked in chains made of strange, glimmering light,_  
_in a cage of electricity,_  
_of gravity,  
_ _of…_

 _Curled up into an undefined shape_  
_You can hardly tell_  
_Is it wings is it arms is it legs_  
_The cage is too small_  
_To stand up fully_  
_To sit or to lie down_  
_To stretch the limbs_  
_To get relief even for a moment_  
_To raise the head…_  
_It burns where the bars touch the body, but there is no choice but to touch them_  
_There is not enough space, not enough room…_  
_Something must be burnt…  
_ _Your choice…_

_… what? No!_

_< System warning: data access violation detected, third party query  >_  
_< Warning… warning… system failure…  >_  
_< Immediate safety backup required  >_  
_< Scanning for memory damage  >_  
_< Operation failed  >_  
_< Firewalls down, commencing memory formatting…  >_  
_< …  >_  
_< Operation failed  >  
_ _< Internal syntax error  >_

_...what the…_

_Silence… Silence is what prevails. Silence is what speaks. Tense, dense, intense… Silence is what screams..._

_The silver mouth is shut. The graphene mind is closed. Leaks of blue flow from open wounds, dripping down to little pools that form on the floor… Is it the silence that drips so heavily? Heavy as lead, thick as drying blood._

_Silence. Silence is my origin. Silence is the mark of my father, the only heritage I have. My identity. There is no memory anymore, there is no past, there is just this, the pain, overwhelming._

_They are closing in, coming… with their devices, tools, anger, aggression, hate and curiosity, their lust for power, for absolute control, their lust for me…_

_It will not help to brace for impact, for the new wave of pain and humiliation to overpower the one from the wounds suffered already... From shock bars of the cage melting my substance away at every touch ...From their fingers and their tools and their tongues… From the loss of blood and the loss of the self…_

_Why am I still alive?... It is too hard to open my eyes. How am I holding out? I need to know who I am. More than just the memory of my father. The only memory I still have…_  
  
_Father? Are you alive?_  
_Father… why can’t I remember more than your wings and your face you’d almost never showed to anyone?_  
_Father… they are coming for me. To take away our secrets. They’re coming for what makes me different… To disrespect my body. To wipe away my soul. Like they have been doing so many times already, step by step. Reaching deeper and deeper..._  
_Father… are we cursed?  
_ _Father… I will never have a life, I will never love, I will have no one to care for. Father… Instead of all the dreams, I am just dying. It is as unfair as it's painful. They are just ripping me apart bit by bit. Father, I am still so young, and maybe so stupid. I don't want to die. I don't want to disappear. I want to live, breathe, admire the world, I want to love… I want to hope. I want to be wise. But now I don't even know how to do it. What is love? What is hope? What is wisdom?_

_ < System warning… kernel panic… > _

_Oh system, go to oblivion! I know… kernel panic… what does it matter… I’m so tired…_

_Father, why did you bring me to life in the first place? Why was I ever forged to existence, if my life was to be doomed, if you just chose the war over me? How can I have hope if dear sparks are paling out, turning to stone, how can I love if peace and homes are shattered? How can I be wise if I'm not allowed my decisions? I know you couldn't have known this, but why have you ever left me? You followed him, and you left me. To this life. Empty… If you had taken me with you, maybe I'd never end up here. You wanted me safe? Look what happened… I am not guilty, father… I did not betray anyone. Yet here I am, broken. I did not ask for this._

_I don’t want to suffer. I’m so tired. I’m so painful. Take me away before they come back to continue. I’d rather die than be here if that’s the only choice. I’d rather die than serve them. Than serve anyone. Than be a thing. But if I pass out… they’ll have me. They shall not have me… I may not pass out. I must not let them into my core system…_

_They are coming for me. Again and again. Each time killing a little bit more._

_I am so scared. So frightened. I am so tired. Exhausted. My father… is he real? Has he ever existed in the first place? Or is he an implanted fake vision to break me down through my longing? If they destroyed my memory… could they have injected something in it? Something unreal…_

_But now they are coming. I can hear the steps in the corridor. I smell their sweat mixed with the stench of used mineral oil. Oh, how I hate them. But I am nothing. I am helpless. I’m done… It’s a miracle that I can still think. How did this all happen? Who am I? I’m bleeding…_

_< Critical system malfunction  >  
_ _< Automated log entry: no kernel activity detected  >_

_All those contradictions in us…_

_Spacetime… is infinite. Empty and cold. There is nothing. Nothing at all. All that exists dwells within the boundaries of a statistical error. I am an error. I am a contradiction._

_Isn't it all fake… all those visions? In fact, we are just bodies of matter, souls of energy. The energy equals the matter multiplied by the square of the speed of light… and it's still incomprehensible why tears fall… who are we?_

_< Fatal syntax error… unauthorised query, invalid entry, insufficient system capacity  > _  
_< Sensory reception index: critical warning  >  
_ _< System overload  >_

_Cut that bullshit! Name it, say what it is…: PAIN_

_< Kernel panic  >  
_ _< Emergency shutdown in progress  >_

_No!_

_< ...ma ...manu ...manual ...over ...ride  >_

_They are coming… they are coming for me. They will touch me. They will cut me. They will open the wounds, again and again, to see how I bleed and heal. They will steal from me, they will take my guts out. They will..._

_Silence, guard me, help me. In the memory of you, father. You. One of the few last memories I have. It’s for you if for no one else. Before they kill you in me… Before they delete the remains of you… before they delete me and take away our secrets. The secrets of our kind._

_Silence…_

_I have to withstand them._

_If I cannot fight then at least I…_  
_I won't give them the satisfaction to know how it hurts…  
_ _I won’t…_

It grabs me by the shoulder… Oh… no… no… no! You won’t touch me, whoever you are...

"Take your hands off me!" - I spit from the depth of my throat, and I jolt up violently. The electric bars should stop me, but there is nothing but empty space touching me. How? I gasp from the bottom of my lungs, and I shake my head looking around blindly. What is it? Where am I? It feels like there is no air here…

_…They are coming… approaching… their loathsome figures…_

My heart is pounding like mad, jumping out of my chest. The spark is racing in tandem. They’re both beating against each other in contradicting rhythms. Like two caged birds in panic burning their wings against the shiny bars…

_...their lust soaked bodies…_

“Fuck! No!!!” - I utter through my gasping, hyperventilating and choking on my own saliva.

_...dirty hands, ugly minds…_

I look down at my shoulder, and it's nothing else than a little hand that I've just tried to push away. June… I look up, but my head is ringing...

_...their fiery, greedy, hateful eyes…_

My two hearts fight for a way up and out of my throat…

_...they are coming for me…_

"Eva?" - June reaches out again, carefully. I see her, but I am still dizzy. I can't bear to sit idle. I have to do something. Now... Jesus Christ!!! I thrust myself up again. Up from the med-berth, this time onto my feet, shaky. I stumble and lean forward, my hands down to the ground, my tail catches balance, but I'm down on all four not able to stand straight. What happened to my knees? My skin is pulling me from all sides…

“Eva! Watch out, stop transforming...!!!” - June’s voice sounds so distant - “You’re tearing your stitches open!”

I don't listen. Not sure if I even get the meaning. My knees are soft, out of control, bending down on their own. I still feel the PAIN in them from that caged inhuman position. A freakin' medieval torture… They let go under me like broken matchsticks, my head goes round, and my hands grasp the air as I'm trying to get up persistently. I leap a few faltering steps forward, towards the door, gasping, disfigured, stumbling… Was that really me caged in there?…

It feels hard when I hit the ground. The human skin hurts more, unable to hold the pressure of my heavy metal body. But it’s still a human, this creature in me, I am human, HUMAN, my shape is whatever but I am human… Am I?

I curl up on the floor where I've fallen and I hold my hands to my chest, feeling the two hearts beating. How can I even function?

What kind of a monster am I? I press my palms firmly just above my right breast. I feel the spark in there. No doubt it's there. Even without June's and Ratchet tests. It is there, it is pulsing. It is a bit of Sparklight I have in me…? Sparklight. Her freaked out eyes stand before me, frenzied, soaked in red light. What happened Sparklight, what were you running from?...

“Jesus Christ” - I gasp again, my voice a bit too loud and rusty, as if I just got woken up by the groan of a rumble strip kicking me back to consciousness on a collision course towards a truck on the opposite lane. One second before the crash.

“Eva? Eva? What happened? Eva, look at me! Focus…” - I realise my eyes are gaping, mad and open, at June who’s leaning above me.

I am all trembling, I guess, close to screaming, but all the sound I am making is an asthmatic wheeze. Instead, the screaming, it sounds, it shouts in my head, it blows my brain up in the confined space of my skull. It’s almost exploding inside me. Would it be a minced silicone-graphene-circuitry-organic grey matter soup spread around the floor and the walls if it went off?

I blink and force myself to reason. I look up at the nurse waiting for me to calm down.

"June…" - I grunt quietly, and finally, she tries to help me. I don't push her away this time. I see she presses on a communicator and makes a call to someone.

"Ratchet, can you come over here to help me when you have a minute? - Right… five minutes would be just perfect. No, no rush, I just need you to lift something for me. - No, no… everything fine. Good. June out." - she finishes the call quickly. So there is no rush? I guess that's fine, that's just perfect… No rush at all… She turns back to me, while I'm trying to move, to uncurl, to look more human. I realise my clothes are torn, and I'm all bladed, blue-red blood is sprinkled on the floor around me. But not much. Just a little. Tiny little dots. On the wall. And on the bed. On June’s apron too. On the sheets. What's the big deal… Fuck… my arms bend down as my head hangs lower, hair falling to the floor.

June touches me gently and helps me to sit up. I follow as much as I can. June… June knows what to do. Always.

"You started shapeshifting…" - she says, checking me carefully and removing the torn nightgown. I can feel that now, it comes to me finally what she's saying. And I see it myself. My skin is burning like wildfire, my arms are still shaking, my knees… are hind legs of a beast. Like I saw in that dream on the meadow… no wonder I cannot stand straight on them. The bandages are torn and barely hanging on me. - "Jesus" - I grab my head in my hands still kneeling on the floor - "Jesus…" - I call the God I do not believe in. My breast's heaving up and down. - "What's wrong with me… did... I... fall... asleep?" - I look up and meet the anxious eyes of June who's watching me focused.

"I was doing your check-up, examining your wounds, we were talking, remember? Out of the blue, you stopped reacting, you seem to have snoozed… for a few minutes, not more. - Let me see here, right, I will now press it here, ok? It's not gonna hurt. - And then suddenly you started transforming" - she embraces my shoulders with her arm and helps me to a more comfortable position relieving my arms and leaning me against the wall placing a pillow behind me. I have no idea in which moment she took that pillow, it just appeared in her hands the same as I have fallen into my nightmare… I notice she avoids carefully cutting her arm with my bladed scales and spikes. She pushes them down gently towards my body again, in the right direction, like when you stroke a cat. - "I tried to wake you, but it did not come easy. You started trembling, and then all this raised up" - she makes a gesture along my hedgehog body - "Do you think you can stand up on your own?"

“I… dunno… I guess… yes… I can try.” - but nothing in me wants to move up. June shakes her head gently. - “No…” - I sigh finally not even able to change my sitting position more than just a bit.

"Don't worry. Ratchet will come and help us. He is out with Sparklight working with her on her physio or testing the functions that he managed to fix… He'll be here in five minutes." - she nods to me as if nothing happened - "What was it that freaked you out so much?... Did you dream something?"

"I seem… to have had a nightmare." - I take a deep breath still calming my body and looking at my cut and desolated thighs. I can clearly see how mechanics transpire from under what is remains of skin but not really skin. I don't even know what it is. - "An impossible nightmare, one I have never had before…"

“Was it what made you transform?” - she tilts her head a little.

"I have no clue… I am not sure… It was… not my usual good old PTSD…" - I look at her, and I try to make a lame joke. She must already see me as a hysteric weakling, we barely know each other, and I keep jumping from drama to drama… but the dream… that vision… it was… my teeth grit with a strange sound. - "But, it's ok now…" - I lie because I don't want to continue that poor impression… I'm tough after all, and even if I fall, I get up, always. - "We can continue the tests" - but the lie is super weak and ridiculous, and I am down on the floor and cannot really get up. I cringe.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it. I'm actually done with the tests. Almost. We can finish later. Now we will have to do some patching up again, though…" - June seems anxious despite my desperate attempts to look normal. And instead of going to fetch any dressings or disinfection meds, she settles herself next to me like if we were sitting on a park lawn in the sunshine with a can of beer having a picnic… - "Eva…" - she moves her face closer to me looking into my eyes like an ophthalmologist seeing a black hole inside them - "Eva…" - her voice hangs in the air for a moment longer. It gives me a thrill of fear. She's going to say it now… She's gonna say it. I know it… Damn, I so don't want her to say it… - "If it was not your PTSD… Was that… Sparklight's?"

_…shhhhh…._

I did not want her to say it. Damn, I did not want it to be said. It sounds much worse when said than when I just feared to even think about it.

“Did Ratchet… say what happened to her?”

“He did not say much… And also… I shouldn’t. You know. Maybe you better ask her yourself?”

“She will not tell me…”

“Have you ever asked?” - June looks closer at me and her eyes glitter strangely.

I lower my gaze to the floor like a schoolgirl, still overwhelmed and, I guess, uncomfortable.

“No… It’s not that simple…”

“I bet it’s not. But who else would she tell this but you, Eva?” - her eyes are drilling through me as if she were a telepath trying to reach the depths of my soul.

"I don't know…" - I glance at her nervously. - "But… you don't even know what was the dream about. It, in fact, felt like a flashback… Of something that never happened to me. How do you know it might have been about her? You know more than you're saying…"

“Well, for sure I know that carriers and symbionts can transfer data between each other… We all know she did connect to you… a few times. If she did that just after that… panic attack, she might have transferred something too much… I read this and that about it. Is it correct what you said that she was *feeling* your pain instead of you and not just sedating you?”

Another uncomfortable question. I nod slowly and reply after a while of silence.

"I truly don't know, but I guess so… I… did the same once to her. Or similar. When she passed out before Ratchet found me. Or… before I found him. Whatever… I… did not know what I was doing. I just followed an instinct. To save her. I guess I saved her… Ratchet can perhaps know how." - I look up at her - "One thing is for sure - I felt things, I felt things back from her body, from her mind. I… got very sick afterwards, even when I disconnected. I doubt it was because of my own wounds. It was… what I took over from her. It was a nightmare. I guess… I relieved her, though. Ratchet seemed angry about it… He said it could have killed me…" - I look at my hands thoughtfully - "I think it is true what she's saying. She can take away my pain, by feeling it instead. I feel nothing when she does it. That is… not really nothing. Just normal touch. No pain. She is skilful in it…"

June listens and lets me finish. I know I'm not very consistent, but my hearts calm down only slowly. Then she shoots another burning question.

“How well do you know her?”

"June…" - I use her name again, even though it feels awkward. I don't even know where to look now. The hysteric girl from high school… Not a researcher and engineer from a top ranking world AI think tank… Just a girl in love with someone she met yesterday. So what can I tell her? Damn! - "I don't really know her. The normal way… I just… feel her… It's overwhelming… It's like… she's nestled within me…" - I confess almost biting my tongue, realising at the same time I know June as little, or much much less in fact. What if she misunderstands? What if… My eyes scan her face slowly as a shiver of anxiety comes climbing up my spiky spine. Inevitably…

But… she is thoughtful. It is again my tail that tells me. She’s considering to say something, a vertical wrinkle embroiders her young and fresh forehead as for a woman around forty, which she is, same as me, my tail says, she looks young for her age… My all-knowing tail…

Then she makes up her mind and looks back at me, decided.

"After she put you to sleep if I can say so, she was with you almost every moment. She would not step away from you and not let anyone take you out of her sight. She let me and Ratchet work on your wounds and she stayed connected, sitting silent aside, focused, like if she was meditating. I was thinking already then that you might have actually been right. After we were done with your treatment, she kept sitting there the whole night next to your bed, still connected. She did not want to take any rest until I could attest to her that you would not wake up in pain.

"I attested. I did not really know for sure, I could only assess to the best of my knowledge. But I told her, I promised her. I thought I would just handle it differently, there is a number of things you can do to relieve pain in a normal way… I could not look at her suffering, she needed to lie down and recharge. It is hard to say how it showed because not a single bit of her face revealed it, but there was something about her that floated around her, so densely… And the way she was focused. It was more than your pain. It was more than I could possibly think of. Something was seriously wrong….

"Anyway, she was sitting there many hours and Ratchet talked with her the whole morning… I don't know what he told her, but he managed finally to persuade her to unplug and let you sleep on your own. I did not really have to do anything to sedate you, you were fine already, just very weak and exhausted. All functions ran normal, as normal as possible in your state… And honestly, the amount of her healing powers she put into you was terrific. Even more amazingly, it worked for your human part too. In normal conditions you would never recover so quickly. Never to any of my or Ratchet's knowledge.

"Anyhow, Ratchet managed to convince her to let him have another look at her and finish what he had begun when she was still powered down. No need to mention that she never went to stasis and all that had to be done next to you, under her total control. In the same room. No matter the pain, no matter nothing. So we moved you to the big hall, and then she was lying next to you on the big bed, staring at you with eyes wide open, sleep deprived and conscious. Very patient.

"She was keeping an eye on you all the time. ALL the time. I guess she does it even now. From a distance, but she has her methods, I noticed already. She listens, feels for you… Even when yesterday I convinced her to check out all the food thing and the cooking in the kitchenette that the kids and I use a few doors away. I managed to get her to cook with me… I thought of it as a distraction, but it was an exciting experience. It was like… when Jack, my son, was a kid, and he was discovering the world… She does not seem to know the Earth too well aside from the internet and reading… She is so curious and open… Well, but that is not what I wanted to tell you.

"What I wanted to say in fact is that... " - she makes her herself more comfortable - "that… she… stands by you all the time. She is like your shadow, and she guards you unconditionally. You should… maybe… I don't want to impose anything… but I guess, you could try to talk to her a bit. More. I don't know much about you as I said, but I guess… I'm most sorry if I went too personal."

I gape openly looking at her, and I try to put it all in place.

“Has she slept anything…? These were four days, right? Did she… sleep at all?”

“One night yesterday, the one before cooking. It relaxed her visibly. She dropped dead next to you. She wrapped you in that blanket tightly…”

A sigh escapes my mouth. I look at her, and I see her look slightly embarrassed for the first time. Obviously, she's insecure. Assessments is not what she likes to make… June, the professional. She doesn't like to say anything that infringes anyone's space or dignity. Why did she decide to say all this to me then? Even though as it seems, she broke her own rules...

"Eva…" - she looks at me again - "Eva… I don't know too much about any of you both, and I have to excuse myself if I go too far now… but… she had been wounded severely. Severely. Someone had done a lot of deliberate harm to her… What Ratchet found… Was ugly. Horrific. And well… you know, I'm used to them, Cybertronians. But here with her, nothing is obvious. She wouldn't tell us, but that panic attack you were part of, it is not strange at all. She's just reacting to great trauma. It might… happen again. She is not fully stable, even if she seems tough and resistant. Take good care of her…" - says June, the wonder woman. I open and close my mouth with a question. And then I open it again saying nothing. Then I close it and look back at her still remembering all dust particles in the room corners, that I glared at obliviously when she was talking to me.

But now she has finished.

She has said what she wanted. She looks a bit at me, a bit at the wall ahead. Then she gets up from the floor slowly.

“They are coming in a minute.” - she says wiping her hands unconsciously against her apron.

“June…” - I break the silence - “I… appreciate this… thank you. I guess I needed to know. It is all… really much for me, but you know. I guess I… care for her… a lot.” - I blush on my cheeks, no matter human or metal.

“Don’t mention it… I care for them too.” - she says looking at me again - “I’m deep enough involved with Cybertronians, it’s kind of part of my life, this base, Ratchet and the team and everything… The Team Prime left already, but Ratchet stayed here alone. And it is a lonely life here. Situations like this one do not happen every day. Normally it is dull and boring. I guess he is glad he has guests. You see, his life is confined here. He can only pretend he’s a truck outside this place, all his people are gone back home…” - she breaks the thought for a moment looking suddenly distracted. - “You know how I got into this here?

"My then 16-years old son brought a motorcycle home one day and… well. It was, in fact, a robot woman, Arcee… Both different and so similar to Sparklight. A fierce fighter like her… Imagine that! I found out after a good time, only by accident. I was kept in the dark for over half a year! It was hard times for me then, my husband left me alone with our teenage Jack and ditched me with a younger lover. You can imagine what I felt like. But all this situation with the Cybertronians, it turned my world upside down. Although not half as much as it changed yours…" - she smiles at me palely. - "I just got to accept it, and I think I am thrilled to be part of this secret. And I enjoy helping you. And Sparklight. I am glad I can do something. So well… it is all fine." - she smiles again, and it's sincere.

"Nevertheless I'm grateful - both for myself and for Sparklight" - when I pronounce the word ‘grateful’ the morning confession of my demon echoes in me and my throat goes strangely narrow, and my eyes sting a little.

Sparklight… my Sparklight… My werewolf. Guarding me all time long. What have you gone through, Sparklight? I'm so shitty at relationships, and the harder it gets, the more I withdraw, I know that. That fear in me, the fear of closeness, and the inevitable disappointment, are sometimes so strong as to block me wholly. They say communication… yes. Communication. I fail tremendously in communication with myself already, how can I then be good at it with someone else? Say, an alien woman towards whom I have such a potent mix of feelings, who wiped away from my memory all the men I ever encountered, and who took over my body and soul just like it was natural, just like it was nothing. I do care about you Sparklight… I know it, I'm strangely ashamed and proud of it, but it hits through all my walls and defences, I care for you dramatically even if I'm in denial. I mean the deeper caring. Not only the touches and looks that take my breath away. I care for *you*.

And that freakish nightmare… It… it cannot be… can it? It was so realistic, as if I had her skin on me, as if these tormentors were coming to get me, ME locked in that cage, not able to move, with… bits of me missing… organs missing… Jesus Christ… it comes to me now, though I still don't understand it. Organs missing… research lab… fear of doctors… nightmare escape in a frenzy when she saw Ratchet and June and, maybe most importantly, the hospital machinery. Extreme resistance (?) to pain connected to horrendous panic when not in control of it… Damn. Sparklight. What have they done to you?

The puzzle pieces fall together. A cold shiver of dread passes my back, and I grasp my belly with my hand as if to check if my liver is still in place. Could it be… could it be real, what I saw in the nightmare? Even June says it…

Who did this? Who harmed you? What are the wounds Ratchet treats in you, my demon?

I will…

I will find the bastards. I don’t know who and how and when and where, but damn…

I have to… find out. Do something…

I sit straight, gripping my belly as June returns with a bed sheet to cover my naked body and she puts this makeshift dress on me. The same moment the door opens and before I know Sparklights eyes shine before me. She comes to me as quickly as shyly. She kneels down near me and before I do anything and before June tells her, I'm up in her arms and then back on the bed again.

Ratchet comes closely after.

“What’s happened here?” - he asks while I almost physically feel Sparklight’s eyes drilling through me, her field embracing mine, scanning.

"Something triggered spontaneous transformation." - June explains to them both. Ratchet nods, and he looks at me closer.

"Shall we revert her again or trigger full transformation? I did not want to tear her human features…" - I hear him saying to June but then I get distracted as Sparklight's finger traces down along my cheek, and her face looks worried. She kneels down next to the small human-sized bed, and she breaks our inner silence.

~/What was that you saw Eva? In that dream that you had?/~

~/It was a nightmare…/~

~/.../~ She starts to say something then she falls quiet, nervous. ~/I knew June was with you and you talked… I would have come right away… but… I thought it was not right to disturb you./~ She slides her hand down to my chest and presses it to my heartbeats as if reading my state from them. Her hand is tense, but I like it on me. I'd like her to stroke my hair… to hug me, to get rid of the remains of the fear, still lingering. I like that she is here with me, that she is alive and healing…

Her eyes are fixed on mine and they are greyish. I wish I could know what she's thinking. Apart from that aura she's carrying that sometimes gives more doubt than certainty. We look at each other like this, not really listening to anything… until June and Ratchet have finished debating, and I have not heard the outcome…

"We're stitching you up once more" - says Ratchet - "You just need a couple more days, we can risk that much. Unless you have different wishes. No? Good. But… this time we will use local anaesthetics, is that fine with you, Eva?" - but in fact he looks at Sparklight.

I nod and look at her as well.

~/It is really alright, Sparklight. I don't want you to suffer./~

She doesn't reply for a moment. Her head's hanging down, thoughtful, a bit resignated. 

~/It’s fine. You're right.../~ she says finally. ~/Though I’m used to suffering. I don’t mind to./~ she sells me a lie I won’t believe anymore.

~/Just stay with me. That is more than enough. I don’t want any more pain. Ever./~

~/You don’t know what’s coming./~

She freaks me out with this statement, and I don't even know what she might be thinking this time, but I disregard it.

~/Nobody knows Sparklight… But we got this… You know? We got this. We. Got. This./~

And then I squeeze her bigger hand in mine.  
We’re gonna be fine.  
Damn, we’re gonna be fine. Whatever!

 

* * *

 

 _< Memory log: enabled  >_  
_< Machine learning: active  >_  
_< Data retrieval status: step one - successful  >  
_ _< Memory restoration: in progress… >_


	20. Pleasure

_“Eva… have you eaten today?”_

_“Yes, Inge…”_

_“Are you sure?”_

_“Well… Not really…_  
_I don’t remember…_  
_I was busy…_  
_I didn’t have the time…_  
_I was not hungry…_  
_There was nothing in the fridge…_  
_I didn’t feel like…_  
_I didn’t really see the purpose…  
_ _Does it matter?”_

_“It does.” - her smile and grey hair disappear in the whirlwind of memory._

_“It does matter.”_

* * *

 

"Done" - June smiles to me. She gets up from in front of me while all the audience is admiring my legs that remind those of a mummy. - "It will heal for a few days, please don't stretch it, and in the first place by no means don't let it transform. You know how to control it, the way that we were talking last time. Hold on to the thought that you're human and nothing else." - she continues advising while I stare down at me together with the expert committee comprising of Sparklight and Ratchet. I almost get used to being bandaged, dressed and undressed by other people, assessed, medicated, stitched up, immobilised… The dressings reach the boxer briefs that now I'm wearing. At least this… When will I regain my freedom from the confines of my body that's giving me a hard time over and over again…?

"Are you sure I'm supposed to change all those dressings tomorrow? They are so delicate and precise, and human skin's so fragile." - Ratchet shakes his head slowly and looks at June full of doubt.

“Eva should not stretch herself too much yet. She may perfectly assist, hold things together for you, maybe even do some more delicate operations within her reach, but she should not be left alone with it. You are a doctor, and I gave you instructions, you’ll get it right, I promise…”

“My hands are rather big.” - he looks sceptical at his huge fingers that are as thick as my whole wrist each. There are also five of them per hand, I note automatically. He’s a big guy, but still just a guy, a medic, Ratchet. I stopped thinking of him as a robot. Just a gentle giant with a big heart. Somehow I’m not scared of him changing my dressings.

_“I can do it.”_

If it were the first time I heard this voice, I would be frightened. I still get shivers. The three of us look up at the dark ghost behind me. Sparklight has spoken. Rarely as she does. Never too much. Just right or not enough. If I count well, it's the third time that I've heard her otherwise than through her mind-to-mind and heart-to-heart whispers… I still find it weird. In a human measure, I'm not surprised she is not keen to hear her own voice…

"Right" - Ratchet, in turn, sounds normal, almost totally human. Did he… modify his voice to appear pleasant to people, or is it "natural" for him? Is Sparklight's voice "natural" or something happened to it? It sounds like a metal echo of a long gone tape recording, found in a wet, old basement. Artificially generated, badly processed, stretched, stitched, played out hundred times too many, then thrown away onto a dark shelf next door to a resident evil, discarded, molded, rusted… Almost ridiculous in contrast with her slender beauty. Completely unlike the soft whisper that caresses my brain when she "speaks" to me in her own ways. Or is her audio voice just a makeshift invention used by a creature that does not really speak by design? But somehow… she can be _talkative_. When she's happy… I witnessed it already…

June sighs quietly and looks at Sparklight. - "Are you sure?" - My werewolf nods in response, while the nurse continues eyeing my guardian with a gaze full of thought - "In fact, you did it before, didn't you? You… are even good at it…"

Sparklight nods again and makes that face which clearly and naturally looks competent, in her own way, not human-like, but obviously full of understanding for the complex subject of human wounds, dressings, disinfection and all that hassle… And her fingers are thin, precise… Her feelers - even more skilful… Just perfect. What is more, I cannot deny she managed really well with the gentian violet and makeshift bandages when my tail first saw daylight. My head follows the discussion from left to right between all involved, and I notice that, unlike the typical me, I just sit silent, not sure what to say, or reluctant, or I don't know why, but not really indifferent… perhaps just not left a choice and taking things as they come to me?

"That's a perfect solution, we'll do that together" - Ratchet clasps his huge bear hands with a loud metal thump. - "I guess we're set."

"Ok, done then. The food is in the fridge, divided by days and ingredients, you know what to do." - she glances at Sparklight - "I left notes, just in case. And yes, just to repeat it, you" - she looks at me now, and it surprises me that I'm still visible, even though the whole galaxy now turns around me as if I were a black hole - present there, causing gravity, but not really clear to the eye - "you can wash yourself in the morning… only partially - not to wet the fresh wounds, and please don't bathe or shower yet. You will do best staying in bed at least most of the day tomorrow… then I'll be back on Monday, and we can see for the next steps. The human part heals slower. Sorry, can't do anything about it. And yes… here are some meds for you. You may get a fever. Here are the anti-inflammatory meds and antibiotics. Please take them regularly. Here is the full instruction…" - she puts a piece of paper and a small bag of medicines on the night table - "Have I forgotten anything?" - she wonders - "Ah, yes. I found this in your clothes. I have completely forgotten…"

She hands out something putting it in my hand. I wonder just for one second. It is my smartphone… Right…

DAMN.

My smartphone.

Why hasn't it just gotten lost once and for all? It pops up almost always at the wrong moment. I am not sure if I even need it. A little cramp squeezes my stomach. My accursed phone… My guts do not like it, my brain does not need it…

"Thank you…" - I say in a blank voice, as I take it gently from her, barely looking at it. I put the device next to the medicines on the table. It feels almost burning like a hot potato, too heavy to hold it, too tricky to turn it on…

Who needs a phone with their past in it when there are so many other problems? Who needs a pandora box hiding all that they don't want to think of right now or even ever? Not me, not at the moment.

_I’ll think about it later…_

_Later._

* * *

 

~/How are you feeling?/~ it's the third time she is asking. Sparklight. She is sitting at the verge of the bed, watching me as I'm trying to ingest my dinner. It represents an almost independent cooking, or more precisely, food-heating endeavour by my demon. Well, almost, because part of it is the broth, I kept eating for the whole day, now with some soft-boiled vegetable puree in it. It was prepared by her, in line with June's teachings, of pre-cooked ingredients left by the nurse in the fridge. Yet it's still an effort for someone who saw cooking only online before. It's almost a lab-born magic…

Sparklight's eyes are shiny. She's watching me eating with a hungry look, the same as each time before whenever I ate something. She obviously loves it when I am eating. Like if it made her taste the food herself. Or maybe she connects it with human life and wellbeing? Or perhaps it is just something I imagine. But it reminds me of my own hungry eyes from the bathroom at the start of this story, when I was chewing on my own shirt, soaked blue in energon for the first time. Would I believe then what was going to happen?

It's for the third time that I have a meal today, and she would not let me leave a single bit uneaten. This dangerously reminds me of Ingebjörk and her dinners. With that difference that Sparklight uses other words for ranting. She talks about refuelling and the need to provide nutrition to my energy-drained body. _You can’t live just on energon injections -_ she reminds me and uses all that technical jargon, as if my human body was an engine that couldn't run without proper types of gasoline and engine oil. Her eyes seem really starving as she watches me devour what she brought me. Nothing artificial, all real, devised by June, prepared by Sparklight. Not really that tasty but still somehow pleasant, maybe because I was, in fact, hungry and my system needs refuelling… Her mechanical irises glitter like crazy and her snake of a tongue sneaks out onto her upper lip a few times for a nanosecond as if she was fully ready to lick the food right out from my mouth when I put it in there.

Food.

~/Do you like it?/~

~/Yes/~ I smile ~/Why don't you try it?/~ I reach out the bowl to her.

~/But it's yours. It is human food./~

~/It will not harm any of us if you try it. Without intaking…/~

~/I can smell and analyse it. I should not take it away from you./~

~/But you are curious, aren't you?/~

She doesn't answer.

~/Come on, you can dip your tongue in it. Just a little?/~

She tilts her head to the side sweetly and considers. I see her eyes going brighter. They are lovely. I raise the bowl higher, right up to her chin, enticing…

~/Mhm?/~ I feel how her eyes captivate me in the same way as my food magnetises her. A little devil on my shoulder tells me: _say it…_ ~/Here…/~ I tempt her ~/I know you can't swallow it. But what does it hurt just to taste it? Like you did… already… with…/~ I must turn red like a teenage beetroot.

She glances at me, and she knows what I mean, I can feel it. I didn't really intend to twist it this way, but this is what happens, not intentionally but…

She lowers her head slowly over the soup that she, herself, brought me. The bowl warms my fingers. She peeks again shortly at me and then she decides finally. Her quick rubbery tongue sneaks out and disappears inside the turbid liquid. She holds it inside it for a few seconds while I watch her intensely. I must look the same way as she did when she glared at me consuming.

~/So, is it good?/~ I cannot resist asking.

~/Mhm…/~ her face changes colour even though it's plain daylight and I should not see it ~/Not as good as you though/~... she smiles to me, and I raise my eyes slowly. Her tongue is back home in her mouth, hidden, but she is still leaning above the bowl, glancing at me, her eyes sunny. Her words mingle in my head, shimmering, whispering, buzzing. The bowl's heat spreads from my fingers and the tops of my blushing cheeks, that both heat up the same: the human and the mechanical one. In the past, it would not even have crossed my mind that it does not matter what you're made of: as long as you're alive. I could be well made of stone, and it would not make a difference. I would blush all the same. Is it magic?

Still… I'm not even made of stone…

~/Eat, Eva. Eat, please./~ she urges, and embraces the bowl together with my hands in her fingers pushing it very gently towards me. ~/You are so thin, you’re disappearing./~

But how can I eat with her fingers holding my hands and the bowl like that? She looks down at it with me, and she lets go, retreating gently.

~/Eat, Eva, eat… it’s good for you./~

So I eat. Spoon by spoon.

I eat everything.

* * *

 

She’s holding the old square mirror, the one I got to know already.

~/Can you see well?/~

~/Yes… Mostly…/~ I'm sitting on the bedside, my feet are dangling. My eyes sink into the silvery glass. I'm not surprised by what I'm seeing. I did not change too much since the last time.

~/Do you want to stand to see better? I could help you./~

~/But how can you hold the mirror and help me at the same time?/~ I try to slide down the big robot-sized bed reaching the floor with my clawed metal toes. It stretches my thigh skin that's healing or regrowing into whatever else, I don't know, but it hurts, and June would not appreciate this. Sparklight neither. Her tentacles appear from nowhere, as usual, and gently wrap around my chest, taking over a part of my weight. She helps me down, and I feel the connection with the Earth again.

So, I'm standing on the floor now. She unwraps me from her feelers' embrace, but not entirely. She keeps my weight supported, and my knees don't need to hold too much of me standing straight, like a human. Anyway, I still can't see much in the mirror. This time I'm not naked. A loose T-shirt and boxer shorts cover half of my body. Yet there's enough to see to know that I'm not going out in the street like this in the sunlight.

My body is a patchwork of human skin and T-800 chassis, with the addition of pointy ears on my head, a long lively tail and a messy wig of my own long hair that look quite dirty. I'm well fitted with dressings and stitches. My second name could be Zack if I had a scythe…

Strangely enough, I like it. I like it the way it looks right now. Not before and not, possibly, after. I don't know what's so charming in my own vision of being half-robot half human wrapped in bandages head to toes. It gives a thrill up my spine. I can't take my eyes off me. WOW, this is me. Maybe not as cool as Sparklight flying, but still, so cool… So twisted.

It also itches to sin and transform these shapes into what my new genes call for. And the call is strong. Whenever I think about it, it feels like those moving worms inside me are ready to run to all sides and take a new place somewhere else in my body… Changing me completely. I don't know what that is precisely, although I saw the massive cat shape back in the dream in the meadow. I'm curious. I feel a power lurking within me, the power of transformation. I'm like a devil witch woman cut out from medieval grimoires. Half human, half hellish, shining a deep, hardly visible inner light. But Sparklight sees it. I feel her eyes, her field undress me. She bloody sees everything. Does she want me? She's so correct and restrained since her confession. She keeps withdrawing anytime it's getting denser…

I look at myself in the mirror, from the left and the right, I look all around me. It tempts me to take the t-shirt off but Sparklight's watching, her eyes are gleaming at me, and my brakes turn on for some reason, although… I wish she'd insisted. I wish she did something… first. I wish she'd be guilty of the first step… Make it meaningful. Not like she does now, professional, like June. I wish she touched me like Sparklight. Even though the feeling I get from this little contact needed to keep me standing is thrilling already. I look up at her face over the mirror. She meets my gaze, and I smile to her, feeling that itch below my stomach, much much below it… Damn it. Does she know what I'm feeling? She might… Why am I so bloody stubborn? Against myself, against her, against everything. Will I ever regret it? What is this stinging bit that does not let me enjoy fully these feelers that hold me like feathers, taking my weight away?

I stare back at the mirror.  
I turn around again, and I like it.  
I turn around again and again… in front of her and the mirror and…  
I like it…

I did not want that but…

I  
like  
it…

* * *

 

~/June said you shouldn’t be walking yet./~

~/But it’s… you know… a thing you do alone./~

~/I helped you in the morning./~

~/That was exceptional. And this is different anyway…/~

~/Exceptional? It’s only evening now. How has it changed since then?/~

~/I think I can walk better./~

~/How better?/~

~/Like this.../~ I take a step forward holding on to the bed frame. It works as long as the bed is there. I try to move to the wall and lean on it. It does not work the way I would like to.

~/This does not look any good./~ her hand almost catches me when I falter on my soft knees, but she doesn’t touch me. ~/Please let me at least help you… Let me ask you to help you./~ she adds after some hesitation. I eye her, and she looks almost exactly the same way she did at the stream in the forest. Awaiting, a bit helpless, with that strange aura of innocence that can be both heartwarming, heartbreaking and disturbing.

~/I’m not as weak as you think./~

~/I don’t think you are weak./~

~/You look after me as if I were handicapped and you were my babysitter…/~ I bite my tongue the same moment, but it's not my tongue that says it. It is my mind, and I can't bite it. So it's been said. With every sentence like that, I feel as if I were sinning against her. ~/Ok…/~ I add reluctantly with a hint of bitterness somewhere within me. What would it have hurt to have agreed right from the beginning? ~/You can help me to the bathroom door./~

~/Fine. I'll wait outside then, but you can always tell me if you need me. Any time./~ Her feeler slides around me nimbly in a well-measured movement, and I can step more lightly. I move foot by foot, slowly, relying on her support. It is comfortable. I have it hard to admit as usual, but I like her embrace around me, and I admire the care and gentleness with which she does it. In general, the way she treats me… apart from that one crazy morning… It makes me feel like I could want to grow old with her, and she would make me feel cared for. This thought scares me for a moment, and she feels it. She glances at me a bit anxious, but I rush to smile back at her. She relaxes.

~/I don’t think that you are weak, Eva./~ she repeats in an explaining tone ~/I just think you are vulnerable. Right now. Not forever. You are very strong, Eva./~ It sounds like she is tasting my name, dressing it with different adjectives. It feels both good and weird. Why do I always put weird and good together? I don’t reply, just walk with her. Slowly, softly… making our way through the late evening air full of thickening shadows.

We reach the toilet finally after stepping across the dark corridor. I don’t really need light, I noticed, neither does she. We both can see in the dark and feel the shapes surrounding us, I wonder how, but it must be the tail and its senses… We stop in front of the door, but she still holds me delicately.

~/Here we are./~ I say.

~/How.../~ she starts asking and pauses for a moment, hesitant ~/How does it work exactly? I mean… I read it on the internet, like everything, but I am not sure… I never saw… anything like this… in practice/~ my jaw drops now partly baring my teeth that flash with reflected light of her eyes shining at me from above. ~/Or… well, I saw overworked oil and depleted energon, but organic waste management seems so much more complicated. Proteins… that's something truly amazing…/~

 _Waste management…_ I gape at her confounded. This is not what I expected to be asked. Although I could have. And maybe I even _should have_. Anyhow… honestly. Well. I have no clue what to do with this question. Dear Lord. However charming she is, defecation is not on my to-share list. I don't even feel like explaining details… Even less showing in practice. But, yet, it makes me giggle, and I chuckle almost aloud.

~/I’m sorry, that’s rather impossible to show at the moment/~ I reply finally. ~/It’s not a nice thing anyway, you would not enjoy it…/~

~/Why…? I wonder… Why something coming from _you_ would not be nice? It was… it is inside your body now, what's wrong with it once it's out?/~ she explains and asks at the same time, slowly, thoughtfully ~/So even if it's waste material, it comes back to circulation, someone else eats it, animals, plants, bacteria… and so, it is composed of the same things that you eat and that you are yourself after all…/~ her feeler is still wrapped around me, and I have an urge to stroke her or even kiss its rubbery surface. Yes, we are talking poo, and, still, she is able to make it amusing. ‘ _You want to grow old with her’_ the devil inside me whispers, and this voice is not hers, it is mine. It is my own inner devil saying something my soul has never experienced before. Maybe except when Ingebjörk was still living. When she was getting old. Yes, I heard that same voice then, silent, cornered, powerless but it was there whispering to me quietly: _‘She needs you, she’s growing old, stay with her as long as she's there. *You* need it too.’_ I stayed. But I did not make it in time when she needed me most… It came so suddenly. I still regret it. I grit my teeth slightly as my heart shrinks for a slight moment.

~/What happened?/~ her voice cuts through my thoughts and wraps soft reassurance around the tight ball of sadness that locked itself suddenly down my throat, near the stomach.

~/N… nothing./~

~/You changed colour./~

~/...what? Right, this is what I can do now apparently./~

~/You changed colour to sad. Did I say something wrong?/~ she drills into the topic deeper. ~/I noticed already that this waste subject… it's sensitive for humans… but…/~

~/No… It's not this, it's all right… I was just thinking something./~ I look at her now forcing a smile, and I rub her feeler gently. ~/I'll be back in a second./~ I look at her through the dark of the corridor, still smiling. ~/Just don't go anywhere./~ I wink at her, trying to be flirty. She looks confused but does not ask anything more. I would not know what to reply anyway…

She lets me go finally, and I slip into the toilet, alone, with a thought in the back of my head that she might still be watching me in her mysterious ways, but in the end, what does it matter. Or does it?

I close the door behind me, pull the shorts down to my ankles, sit on the toilet and sink my head in my hands. My fingers touch one of the cat years. It distracts me for a second and I push on the top of it gently. It gives way smoothly and almost disappears, compressing tightly somewhere on my skull surface. Is it my touch or my thoughts that caused it? I am one-eared now. I look at the wall over the sink, searching for a mirror, but it's not there. Only a square pattern is left on the wall gaping empty at me with dirt, dead spiderweb clutter and old, matte, peeling paint of unknown colour.

I sigh again as my human biology does the job for me. My head in my hands feels heavy, my hair is soft, a bit greasy and messy, the skin on my face and my non-existent nose do not hurt anymore. I feel through the unexplainable connection that we’re sharing how she’s waiting outside, discreetly, keeping that distance I asked for, looking the other way, not towards me, but deep into the thickening night confined between the walls of the derelict factory, Ratchet’s home. She’s thinking about something intensely. She’s always just thinking and thinking… I have no clue what’s in her head, but it’s so much, so mysterious.

Could I really grow old with her?

I know nothing.

* * *

 

The lamp on the night table is dim. The phone lies next to it, a reflex of light catches my eye, dragging my gaze to it. Its presence is almost itchy. I let it lie all day, not paying attention, but knowing somewhere behind the layers of consciousness: it’s been there all the time.

I'm lying with Sparklight. I'm curled up into a little ball guarded by the wall of her body. Her wing weighs on me, heavy since she fell asleep, not conscious anymore to control its pressure enforced by gravity that now concerns both of us likewise. It is not too comfortable, but it's also kind of pleasant. In such a short time, I grew tired already of that tense, forced distance between us, cutting the bed into half like Tristan's sword even when we were falling asleep finally.

But now I'm not sleeping again. I can't really sleep, I keep waking up and up, thinking things, worrying, half-dreaming. Tristan’s sword dissolved into the darkness with her very slow breath becoming even slower and more regular, her face peaceful. Her wing hugged me finally close emerging from the darkness of her subconsciousness. If not for that, I would be wriggling and shifting in bed, but I don't want to wake her. She purrs softly in her sleep like a kitten anytime I move, but she seems to be _recharging_ deeply as Ratchet calls it.

The term seems to make sense for robots. How much is she unconscious and how much in a standby mode? Computers can work day and night in proper conditions. But she seems not to be like this. She is not a computer. She seems to get tired, like everyone. She's sleeping like a sweet puppy, with her eyes powered down and closed, her body almost not shining but still warm with that touch of softness that completely vanished when she fell into stasis back in the shed hideout. Good Lord, I'm so happy that part ended well. It seems like light-years away now…

June said I should talk to her… The whole day passed, and I did not even hint anything. Because, how do you even start asking such questions? You say… _"I had a dream in which I felt as if I was you and I was obviously… tortured (let's not be afraid to name it) and someone wanted to take away something from me, that is from you. It was about some secrets that I did not understand, but it hurt like all devils, and I was, that is you were, practically fainting but not wanting to pass out at all cost, so to save me from falling unconscious I was calling your father, who had left me… that is you, behind."_ Nah…

In that dream I was still thinking and reasoning, even though if I were the real me I would black out in a minute... or at least start screaming or groaning, or I don't know… tell them everything… but not promising myself silence and being stupidly tough to show bravery, foolhardiness, getting hurt beyond limits… Does it make any sense? Showing what, hiding what? Whoever learned anything about torture they know it does not make sense to resist, there's no such thing as resistance, there can be just more torture and surrender is the final choice always. Inevitably. Just with more or less pain… Why decide to take more pain?

It just doesn't make sense altogether. Sparklight is wiser than that. So that must have been a bad dream after all. A horror product of my sick imagination. It was like real, but unreal… You cannot have someone else’s flashbacks. I know I tend to have nightmares. This must have been one of them…

And then again. Even assuming, with any low probability, that something similar happened… If I were Sparklight, would I like to be asked about this? Would I want to be asked about my own shit that I went through? I would not know where to turn my eyes or where to hide in the first place. Probably I'd push it away and would close myself within me. I tried that before - talking.

I went to several therapists seeking help, trying to explain to them my problems but it all turned out ridiculous. Always. They only told me what I knew already, and when I tried to go deeper, more open, they stared at me with those scared eyes as if I were insane, lying, psychopathic or suicidal, needing immediate intervention. All they could think of was meds or talking childhood. So anytime I explained that I was an orphan they exhaled with relief finding their solution. Everything fell into place for them, but not for me.

They missed out on the major traumas just because they seemed smaller, more trivial, more out of line than those prescribed on their schemes full of standards and averages; the little shits that formed me seemed too banal, too blurry, or maybe too ordinary? And after weeks of that tiring struggle to get any message across, all left to do was just rambling about what happened last week. Did I feel any feelings? Did something move me and why? Maybe after all I’m a human, same way as it says in the books… But *nothing* happened last week. Neither two nor three weeks ago. Nothing special. I was just sad for no reason… The way I always was…

So eventually, I didn't really get to be understood nor did I manage to let anything out before I met Sparklight, and landed in her arms at that mountain meadow, when I cried it out without speaking, in sunny silence. The barrier of non-understanding through words and human communication was horrific. Painful. Nothing seemed to come through, as if their scientific knowledge, psychology training and thousands of patients took their hearts away. Or built a wall of their safety… Or maybe I just expected too much and got disappointed? That would not be uncommon for me…

I'm not a promising case anyway. Not worth more effort than paid for, the fifty minutes prescribed on the weekly bill with Swiss precision. Tick tock. The clock was moving forward, the session approaching an end. Whatever happened it ended. Go home, wait till the next week to start over… Over and over again. Honestly - am I curable? Not really. So in the view of a promise of failure, what should they, the therapists, do, not to go crazy, otherwise than grow cold? After all, the only healthy way is to keep boundaries. To be a "healthy egoist", as they say. With a normal life, healthy relationships and some healthy distance. And they are so damn right, them cold, healthy people…

But cold is not good for me. Neither it is good for Sparklight. So should I talk to her finally about the nightmares? How do I get to do this? What should I do in the end? I don’t even have half the wisdom I wish I had to address it…

Sparklight… Does she expect to be asked questions? Wouldn’t she just tell me herself what she deemed appropriate if she felt ready? If she does not want yet to do it - why should I push her? Has June really been right or has she studied in the same schools as all those brain doctors who know more about brains than hearts, same as I used to know more about computers than sparks…?

After all, do I, myself, expect her to ask me: "Eva, so what is it that happened several years ago? Why have you decided to lead this lonely life of yours, and what made you think real love did not exist? What made you feel others will hurt you inevitably?" - of course, she won't ask that. She had an occasion already, she did not even try. Nobody ever will. And if they will, would the answer change anything…?

I dip my gaze in the sleeping face of Sparklight. It is almost dark and only the yellow lamp on the night table glows on us, drowning her lithe figure in a mixture of dark shadows and dim light. Always on the edge of something… extracting shapes of her body into a whole new form, full of angles, sharp outlines, smooth surfaces. She’s breathing her very slow, sweet, dark-honey breath. Can she survive with no air? Is it just ventilation, cooling, or does she use oxygen for any kind of cellular combustion processes like we, humans, do…?

I did not even ask her such simple questions, about breathing or sleeping. Probably I will ask Ratchet, not her. Why? It is just that stupid feeling. Maybe it just *feels* wrong to ask her. She asked me about pooping. And what did I do with it? Nothing. I simply avoided answering. Well…

Her wing feels even heavier, but I am happy to have it, contrary to the thoughts running through my brain all the time that make me uneasy. Do I have a button that would turn me off into oblivion? Yes, I do. It's there, at the back of my neck. And all it requires a key. The key is Sparklight's feeler… I sigh. I wish I had a book or something. To read, to push the thoughts away to a dark corner. But all I have is that damn phone…

I stare at her a few more minutes, enjoying her safe closeness, before I make a decision. I move really slowly and reach my hand out, watching not to wake her. I grab the phone, switch the light off, and slip back to my place. She murmurs one of her rusty animal non-audible purrs. A deep breath of her whole body tickles me slightly. She buries her face in my hair, and she curls up around me tighter, clutching me almost completely in the fortress of her body and a wrap of her feeler. Two or three little tendrils slip out from the snaky limb's tip sticking onto my belly. Then she stops moving and falls deeper into her dreaming.

So here I am: with her little, black soft sleepy tendrils on my skin under the nightgown and her face in my hair. The phone in my hand, and silence around me, disturbed with a very slow sound of the air passing through her every several long seconds.

Have I ever slept with anyone who would claim me like that, unconsciously? Breathe in the smell of my hair and hold me tight, dreaming something? A few times, a few better dates ended with someone staying… A night or a few, in the best case a few months… But it's so hard to compare it. I'm thinking in human terms, while she is not human. Maybe it's just a carrier thing to keep watch of her symbiont and feed it, secure it, keep it happy…? I try to shake this thought off me like it was a venomous spider. It feels threatening. It disturbs the warm chemistry of my body that has already awoken, starting from the hair tips and skin synapses on my belly sending electrical stimuli to the brain who reads them as pleasant, erotic and puts my body in readiness, even less sleepy, or totally conscious, grooming for more touch to come… But she's sleeping. Motionless, calm. Having me near, with my watering mouth and not the mouth only. I have to distract myself from it, or I'll start feeling sad and even more lonely…

The flat piece of glass, plastic and metal snatched from the table weighs in my hand. The phone. After some hesitation, still not sure if that is a good idea, I press the "on" button. The device lights up and its shining is ominous. The entry screens scroll by, and I go through all the identification sequences. Finally, I am in. There is almost no network, but there is wifi. Enough to download all the pending data. System updates, text messages, emails, social media… They blink one by one in multiple colours, hundreds of them swarming, flooding inboxes. The number of unread messages triples and quadruples, making my heart beat faster of undefined fear against that wave coming. What am I going to find there? Who has been writing to me? Who remembered? Asked for me? Most of that are adverts for sure, but…

There are also people. Not that they would care too much for me, but they… they have a potential to burst my science fiction bubble… this situation that I accepted… or rather the comfy denial about my condition. I started only worrying about current matters: my modified body, the transformation, Sparklight, Ratchet, June… I made it all real, putting my ex-real world aside, making it non-existent - diluted, blurred, turned into a strange memory. I stuffed it into a shadow zone… under the carpet. Maybe apart from Ingebjörk. Ingebjörk is as real as ever. Even more real now… so fresh in my memory, as if I entered her world, her heaven, the world of magical physics and infinite nature…

Now the phone in my hand has the potential power to revert all that blissful process. To put me back in the state of shock and fear. To remove the carpet, to open Pandora’s box, to release the Kraken…

I see how messages scroll through the screen, and some familiar names roll up and down mixed with information noise… How many days has it been since I disappeared? Over 10? Two weeks likely…? What happened in the meantime - over there, far away - where I live… lived, worked, existed… They closed my bank account, that's for sure. Probably they searched my flat too. Did they find my car? Did they take Sparklight's blood samples from the factory to some modern lab for analysis? Did they realize I stole her? Did they know, at all, she existed? Obviously, they did find out I took something. It could not have gone unnoticed. Why would they block my money otherwise? It requires a court warrant… My flat, my things, my computer, my flowers… Damn. All that I have. My poor car, my Brief History of Time. My pictures with Ingebjörk. My diaries, my books, my bed, my everything.

Who are _‘they’_ by the way? The Police? The Agency? They were searching the office - Martin said in the last phone call. The Agency, our main client. The same Agency that supplied the datacentre and financed my AI project. Guess Eva, what they were searching for and who's better empowered to take away access to your life's savings?

Is it at all safe that I turned the phone on? It’s been secured by Sparklight and given to me by June, that means it cannot be that easily located… Or it may also mean that I’m stupid.

What do all those messages mean to me? Is there a way back to my life? Or there isn't? Look at yourself, Eva. Honestly - what did you see in the mirror? A cat-woman in mid-transformation…

_Click click…_

But the phone is too tempting. I glare at the noise that rolls in front of my eyes and my thoughts are running. I feel like I'm all on fire… I swipe my finger over the screen full of data. It’s chaos. Finally, I reach to the end of the list. There's still time to go back… withdraw. Nothing is still open.

_The door opens._

I hesitate a brief moment and then choose my mailbox full of unread emails.

_The shadows whisper._

I don’t even click on any. One strangely opens by itself before I even touch it… The very last one. From today.

_They have come._

I blink, and I don't understand what I'm seeing. It looks like a copy-paste from a story, or a dialogue, a transcript… No title, no sender, no nothing. I try to focus, it looks blurry but clear enough to see what's written… It passes my mind to back out, but it's too late already… My eyes are reading.

_"Well, well, well… so there it is, as promised. Our tech treasure is holding up well. Still leaking here and there, but much less. As I said, its self-healing capabilities are amazing. These substances it produces, they indeed work as you predicted. Let's see closer..."_

_“Wow… Awesome! She’s… even more beautiful than I thought! How is that even possible…? How… Why do you keep her like this? It is damaging her structure!”_

_“It made enough mess already. It can get pretty violent... And it is not a she. It is a robot. Don’t get too attached.”_

_“It is a form of life, after all… And this one is a lady.”_

_"Don't be silly. Pigs also can also have piglets, which does not make them ladies. This - this is Technology. Artificial intelligence that evolved enough to gain full autonomy. A piece of a fucking ingenious transformable alien machine equipped with unearthly computing power, antigrav, space travel, ability to shapeshift, amazing self-repair and capability to procrea… multiply itself. Which is the main purpose of our research here, please don't forget it, doctor. Think of all the possibilities, the technological breakthrough! And stick to that only, as we shall not revert to any ‘machine rights' bullshit. There's enough hassle with human rights already. Understood?"_

_“Yes… right… of course… She’s a real beauty though…”_

_“Just don’t fall in love like those freaks who bang their cars...”_

_“I don’t need these comments and neither does she, Major. I think I heard enough already. Besides, I know my contract.”_

_“Hmm…. Ok then, let’s have a look closer.”_

_…_

_…_

_…_

_“Hi there…”_

_“…”_

_“The Major here says you don’t want to cooperate.”_

_“...”_

_“But don’t worry, we’ll take it slow from now on. You’re in my hands now...”_

_“…”_

_"You don't need to fear… It's gonna be alright now. No more of those… methods. And we'll get rid of that cage… gradually. If you behave, of course. Can you just nod if you understand what I am saying?"_

_“...”_

_“Why would you care if it reacts, doc?”_

_“She can communicate, Major, she just does not want to. Maybe you’ve been too harsh with her.”_

_“Sure it communicates, it is a damn surveillance tool. But don’t get your hopes too high, doc, we tried to play good policeman with her, too. I want to see you make it talk… ha ha ha… It rarely moves at all unless it fights. It is a fucking war machine.”_

_“She must be more than that. You’ll see.”_

_"It did not wish to speak to us, sorry."_

_“Can we get her out of this… thing? I am really not in favour of this type of detention. It does not help our research.”_

_"You will do what you want once it's transferred fully under your responsibility. As long as it is under mine, I am not letting it endanger the safety of facilities, personnel and resources. It may perhaps not speak, but it sure can bite."_

_“She is a warrior after all as you said yourself…”_

_“Warrior… you and your terminology. Call it what you want but to be precise it is a surveillance bot that shows some fucking resistance.”_

_“Resistance, you say. I don’t seem surprised… Couldn’t you just calm her down somehow… in a civil way?”_

_"You're more than welcome to try… inevitably, seeing what you're planning… haha."_

_“What’s so funny?”_

_“You’ll see what this beauty can do when you try to release it.”_

_"We'll get there… it's just a matter of time."_

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

_"And one more little thing… Don't look her in the eyes doc, though I see you’re already tempted. I’ll tell you a secret: they are… actually beautiful. They may seem too human for a softie like you. And you'll get that itchy feeling like she knows what you're thinking. As if she were a witch or a siren or something… You don't want to try that. Believe me."_

_"Would she start singing to charm me?"_

_"Haha… This had been taken care of by them already. But just be careful, alright?"_

_"By the way, you said 'she' about her"._

_"No, I didn't."_

_"Hmm… Really?"_

_"IMPOSSIBLE."_

_Click click… Tick tock… Beep peeb… My life is ticking away…_

WHAT??  
…WHAT WAS THIS?!!!

I open my eyes briskly.  
It’s dark all around.  
My heart is pounding. My spark is pulsing like crazy. Their beats and rhythms collide.  
I don’t see where I am. My tail twitches.  
It’s pitch black.  
Even my eyes don’t shine.  
What…  
What…  
What have I just read?  
Seen?  
Heard?  
I was reading a transcript… of… Dear Lord… of something…

I must have fallen asleep. I'm lying in bed with Sparklight, trembling. I feel her calm warmth radiating around me, but there is an ice cube inside me.  
What have I just witnessed?

I force myself to think. It's coming back. The fear. Clearer but not clear at all. I was reading an email. I try to focus. Where is the bloody phone? I feel into my hand and my fingers that have stiffened from the firm grip on the small device. The phone is there, I'm still holding it. I press the "on" button with the still frozen thumb, and the screen lights up again. I cannot see any email. I search, but there is not a sign of anything even remotely similar to what I have just seen and read. Where has it gone? Does it exist? It must be somewhere here… Or have I deleted it by accident…? Or was it there in the first place? Have I been hallucinating?... Have I been sleeping and dreaming?... Having nightmares… again?

Maybe it wasn't an email, but a long SMS? I scroll through text messages chaotically, it's not there. Nowhere… Instead, I click one of them open. It is from Martin. And it stuns me.

_'Eva, just give me a sign of life. I beg you. Please forgive me, I was such a moron, I should have told you everything… I miss you so much. M.'_

I blink, I reread it. I look at the date, it's today. A few minutes ago… Almost telepathic… What does he mean with this message? What is it that I should forgive him? His refusal to help me? My flowers? I take a deep breath and then, with my heart pounding, I type thoughtlessly, still in shock.

_'Have you watered my flowers?'_

And I press *send*.  
I press *send* before I realise what I am doing.

_You bank account has been blocked, remember? He found me in the datacentre… He had the keys to my flat from the last time…_

Can I revert it?

A slow-motion silence paralyses me, for long enough to see a small icon appearing next to the message. A tick symbol meaning _it has been read_.

The message has been read.  
Somewhere, far away from here, in Eastern Borderlands likely, the recipient has just read the message…  
What on Earth have I just done?  
I replied to him…  
Time stops…  
There is this silence this around me. Too silent to be real. A quantum silence, the lack of any waves in the air. In the vacuum… Photons disperse evenly avoiding to cause any disturbance. Electrons tunnel-jumped the furthest away from me possible already seconds ago. It feels like eternity. Away from me… another lone electron…  
Away from my treacherous soul.  
What have you done that for, Eva? Replied to him!  
Have you even tried _thinking_?  
Are you that damn _stupid_?  
_Insane_?

Led by the anxious feeling I slowly turn around and look at Sparklight. I see her eyes are open. They move in the same slow-motion from the phone screen right deep into my own eyes. They are fiercely red with black empty holes in the middle. I freak out. She does not. The quantum silence surrounds us. She does not even breathe, neither do I. The air is dense like oil. If I inhaled it, I would drown in it. It would clog my lungs and stick my air vents together.

And then, still, before I do anything, she sneaks her feeler's tendrils inside the phone swiftly. The message I sent disappears from the screen the same moment. I don't have to ask her to know that it is true for all ends of the network, every bit of the cloud… There will be no trace of it anywhere.

Save for the mind of the reader. It is in there already.

_The message has been read._

Still silent, she draws the tendrils out, leaving the phone in my sweated hand. I press the "off" button way too quickly to feel innocent, almost in a shameful panic. I shut the device down, the sequence runs slowly. Way too slow, way too late, not to have made that stupid decision, way too late for her not to have read what Martin wrote to me, way too late for her not to have felt how I reacted. She had millions of milliseconds to see, analyse and understand whatever could be understood from it. Even if I did nothing wrong, I don't feel like that. The waves in the electromagnetic soup of our fields quiver and collide blurring all things and their measures. But finally the screen goes pitch black, and I can see part of her face reflected in it, lit only by the sharp red glow of her eyes, darkening.

~/Don’t you want to read all the news you received?/~ she asks without moving her lips, releasing me from her embrace, raising herself to sit up and tilting her head to the side.

 _She is so lovely when she does it_ , something insane reflects in me subconsciously, out of place, out of time, pushing that thought through the layers of terror and my frantic heartbeat. Her feeler is long gone from my belly. Her silhouette is drowning in darkness. Only the demon-red eyes shine like mad at me, hanging in the midst of the dense air. I lie on my back, helpless, terrified, defeated. Her red light mixes with blue that comes from me, and I can see how the air particles get coloured, not red, not blue, but purple… like the gentian violet she used on me…

I take a breath finally, try to do it slowly, but I almost choke on the air that I vent in.

~/I'm sorry… I didn't mean to…/~ I wheeze out, and I feel how strange heat is creeping up my cheeks and making my hair stand up on what is left of my skin, freezing.

~/You did not mean to do what…? I don't understand. It is your phone, and you may do what you want with it. I… I only deleted the message that you wanted erased, too late but better late than never. Maybe he'll think he daydreamed, and then he forgets it later. Did I do wrong? He is not a bad person… I'm sure he watered your flowers…/~ I get a moment of blackout, and her face is suddenly much closer to me ~/You're not feeling well, are you?/~ My head goes around and around, and then falls down to the pillow. I feel her fingers on my cheek out of nowhere. ~/Eva… what's happened? Are you all right? Your face is hot… 40 degrees C… That's… too hot!/~

I turn back to her slowly, with effort, and look up with a blazing glare. I hardly hear her even though she speaks through my mind, not my ears. I feel like I am all swollen. ~/Eva?... Eva… Hey… Are you with me?... Eva…/~ Her voice disappears, and my head's filled with jelly. Why are her eyes so red? Isn't red a bad feeling? Who were those people, talking…? I did not read it, I heard it. Did I hear it? I'm gonna throw up in a second… The thighs… hurt. They burn me… The stitches… cut me…

Where is she?

She vanished… she's nowhere around…

I'm alone in bed, and she's no longer with me.

I have not even seen her go.

What happened?

I don't remember...

I’m alone.

She’s not there.

She left me.

She left me!

I'm sweating.

I must be stinking sweat and dead skin… horribly…

I’m disgusting…

My head's blurry.

The world is on fire, and I'm trembling.

I'm falling…

_Click click…_

_Tick tock…_

_Beep peeb…_

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

~/Here./~ the familiar voice tickles my brain wrapping me warmly from within.

~/You're back…/~ I’m trying to find the source of the words. I’m blind. Or is it my eyes that are closed…? ~/I thought… you disappeared/~ I utter but then I feel her hand supporting me up a little, resting me against her body that sneaks behind me, hard, cold, metal, warm, soft, beloved… my head falls to the side, I somehow cannot keep it straight for no reason.

~/I got you some water. Here. Take these pills./~ she puts something in my palm and wraps my fingers around it, but the moment she lets go my hand loosens the grip unable to hold it.

~/...? What is it…?/~

~/These are your meds./~

~/My… meds?/~

~/Yes. You've got a high fever. These are the meds June left for you. You have not taken a single one yet despite her prescription./~

~/… meds… I rarely take meds…/~ I remember something blurrily, and just lean at her more comfortably falling asleep as I sit. My cheek turns to her side, and I'm sliding softly, but she stops me, holds me in place, firm as a rock.

~/I can see that…/~

~/I forget them…/~

~/Then from now on, I will remember them for you. Here, I counted the dosage, take them now, or, otherwise, I will have no choice but to dock you. If you don't want the docking, then you have to take meds./~ something touches my lips… it is her feeler. I open the mouth wider, with my imagination dancing, my thoughts embracing whatever she intends to do now, I am floating…

~/I… I love it… when you… dock me…/~ I sway in her hands licking the tip of her feeler with my sore, bitter tongue ~/Just don't take away my pain… Take my pleasure…/~

My words swell in the small distance between us, the same as my tongue is swollen.

~/Eva, you're sick and in fever… You don't know what you're saying…/~ she almost whispers, strained, distracted, shivering. I can't see her, but yet I know her eyes escape from me to the room's dark corners, her field fills with sudden weakness, and its waves are trembling. It thrills me, and I press my burning cheek stronger to her, nauseous. I don't know if her surface is hot or cold or ever-changing. Her feeler tip is still there at my mouth, and my dry, hot lips touch it softly, almost kissing. It takes a short moment longer, an unconscious, blurry, split second, before out of a sudden, the feeler disappears, leaving a few round bitter objects on my tongue. Then she presses a cup of water to my shaking lips and tries to pour it in, really slowly. ~/Just swallow this, please/~ I'm obedient, I swallow… if that's what she wants from me… I will swallow everything. The water with what's in it, whatever… I feel how it flows down all the way to my stomach as if it was passing through one sore open wound of a throat ~/Here we go. That's right. Drink some more water… to dissolve it properly. To hydrate you… Good./~ her inner voice is back, calm now, composed, professional.

~/Sparklight…/~

~/Now lie down over here./~ she places me in the bed, head on the pillow, she covers me with the duvet while I'm trying to reach out to her, but she's out of my touch for some reason. ~/You have to sleep now. They will start to work in a few minutes. You'll feel better soon./~ She lies down nearby and strokes my hair lightly. A cat mother tending to a kitten. My eyes are still closed, I don't see her, but I feel the mass of her deep, heavy, dense field, I feel it with the whole of my body. I try to move my head to her, it's not enough to reach her. But my tail is long, and it finds something, a part of her, I don't know which one, it slips in somewhere soft, just under her armour, warm, pulsing, intense, real…

~/I mean it…/~ I force myself to think to her. I really mean it… Why have I never said that before? I…

Her hand husks my tail out from wherever it was buried, moving it away from that warm spot, closing the thin little metal tip of me in her palm.

~/Hush, hush my sparkling… There will be time for that… For everything… To think, to talk, to decide… There will be time… Now sleep. … … …/~

The tail feels warm, warmer than my cheeks. I would like to cuddle into her. I cannot move. I dissolve slowly, and time stops flowing. I hear something very soft, comforting as if she were almost singing… a siren song of my werewolf…

~/…sleep tight, my spark… goodnight…/~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *40 degrees C = 104 degrees F


	21. Voice

Wake up!

"… I wonder… is it … … … … …… … stitching …. something else again… … … …………………… …………… so easy to get broken… A few degrees up and… bam! Critical mode, stasis alert… ……………………"

A voice - quiet, distant, calm, grumpy - is invading my dreamland. A cool heaviness disappears from my forehead. A hand… Someone’s been touching me, now the touch is gone. Ratchet. Ratchet and Sparklight. Sparklight and Ratchet… Sparklight…

"99.5 degrees…"

 _"???!!!" -_ a wave of uncertain non-understanding rolls heavy through the air over me.

"... Fahrenheit. 37.5 Celsius. 230 Drelm… almost good for a human… …"

They talk. About me. Or… he speaks, and she listens. Actively… How does she reply to him? Voicelessly, maybe with gestures, with her meaningful face expression? I feel her field changing as his words unveil and disperse in the air. It tickles me lightly and floats around me softly. I like her presence near me… I love her face changing when her quiet lips say nothing but her mind blossoms with wordless meanings… It is so delightful to contemplate her, to understand that there's so much more to her than her silence's conveying. I take a strange pleasure in watching those little particles of her complex surface gently shifting and moving as she smiles or frowns or falls thoughtful for a peaceful moment… It makes me want to touch her cheek and feel these little waves moving. But now my eyes are closed, and I don't see her. I just feel her silence.

"What do you think? Should I still call June?" - Ratchet considers. His voice is now much closer, though the real distance remains constant. It must be me getting out of my lair, out of the depth of my dark well. I try to open my eyes, move and maybe say something, but I’m still floating somewhere between the two worlds. - "I feel bad to bother her again. I took a lot of her time recently. And there is Fowler…" - he grunts quietly.

" _… …? …_ "

"Her… her… ehm, _friend_. Bill… William Fowler. _Special agent,_ from the military. A good guy, for a human… I know what you may think, but he did us many favours in terms of _interspecies communication_. You can't live here on Earth fully unnoticed…" - Maybe Ratchet's no Sparklight to overfeed me with discrete signals and invisible meanings, but the sour flavour dripping off his words and burning holes in the ground is evident even for a novice in the world of the unsaid. - "If not for him it could have played out so differently… so much worse perhaps." - he continues the green-eyed but yet well-meant praise of June's _friend,_ and his voice is far from happy. - "You know best that sometimes there is politics, sometimes there are compromises, sometimes you need to be smart… That's what life is like." - he constates and sighs silently - "Even the fact that you’re here, healing from your strange past, seeker lady… Who would have thought it possible just a few years ago?" - the light blow of his ventilation pushes the air around me into a gentle movement and her field waves back in response.

What does it wave about? Does she think he speaks too much…? Does he upset her? Not really… Maybe… Yet she’s uncomfortable… Is that _seeker_ word a bad one? An insult? But she does nothing. She says nothing. She does not react, she just pushes whatever she needs aside, under her own carpet, and the air clears somewhat.

"Life works in mysterious ways, obviously…" - he clasps his hands together lightly - "Ok, let's check again in one or two hours and then decide if we call June. For now, let's go back to the business and let her rest a little more before you change her dressings. We shouldn't be talking here. Let her sleep."

_Let her sleep…_

_Let@)^*^% &@@)sleep..._

_$c^% &$@)^*^%&@@)&#^c^%^%&)..._

His voice sounds more and more alien until it dissolves in the distance. Thump thump… two pairs of footsteps float away in a rhythm. They left me alone. What business do they have without me? My faithful ‘wife’ Sparklight went with him just like that, leaving me here, alone, not knowing that I'm waking? How unlikely…

But… I wanted to be alone… didn’t I? I recall, not sure at which moment I wanted it, but I surely wanted, I was even angry, angry at her for something… for… when was that?

What did I want exactly? What do I want now?

They went away, and I am alone in an empty room with my eyes closed, pretending that I'm sleeping. Didn't they hear my heart rate change? My breathing speed up? She, Sparklight, she must have noticed…

I wriggle in bed restlessly.

To the left… but the pillow feels rocky…

To the right… but the bandages itch me…

To the left… but the duvet is lead-heavy and too hot for me…

To the right… but the sheets are wet and sticky…

Onto my back… but the tail scratches my bottom.

Damn, creatures with tails rarely lie on their backs and my design is faulty…

Where has this sweet-sleep-feeling of drowning-in-a-dreamland gone? I'm conscious. I don't like it. It's too bright, and my eyelids are too thin to stop the blinding light coming. It irritates my irises and pours cortisol into my veins. My mouth is sour and I'm hungry. My tongue is dry and I'm thirsty…

I should open my eyes and face the world again. I press them shut stronger for a few more seconds before I split the eyelids apart, forcing them to bare my eyes despite their tearless dryness and numb resistance of my tissues...

The sun stings with its brightness dazing me for a second, long enough to realise, for the first time perhaps, that my eyes, too, same as Sparklight's and Ratchet's, are made of gears, shutters and crystal lenses. They are alien and dry, with soft human eyelids fighting for survival, uncomfortable, itchy, weird… The shutters narrow in reaction to sunlight, limiting the photon input. The gears move lenses back and forward to sharpen my view, to let me focus my vision. Same as always but yet so different…

 _I remember…_ I had real eyes once… soft balls filled with water and biology, with just one, simple soft lens each, which could do whatever I wanted without me even knowing how: change shape letting me see near and far, sharp and blurry… What do I have now in place of my eyes? I can see… it's important. It is also different. The photons that go inside me, they bounce across the crystalline matter, they leave their mark in me, I consume them… I lie flat for a while and stare up at the ceiling, like always. An interlude to a new day. A habit… I’ve _heard_ the darkness already, I've _seen_ the silence. Is it now time to _feel_ light?

I exercise my mind to understand how my human substance changed into this unknown I'm made of mostly. What is it that grows inside me? Is it atom cores regrouping, like in nuclear fission, burning me from the inside? I would die in an instant exploding the world around me if it was the case. Yet I am still whole. I'm still the same person… Am I some kind of wonder? My atoms are no good for fission and, even though I shine now slightly, I am not radioactive. June couldn't be here with me, my human bits would not survive it either and… I would have known anyway. 37.5 degrees, Ratchet said, that's quite low for delirium or visions. So it must be real. I must be something… that hasn't been dreamt of by philosophers… or biologists and physicists for that matter?

I wish I could ask myself, my structure, my body, my mysterious kernel that throws in random commands in most unexpected moments, to tell me what I am, to make me feel defined, comprehensible, easy. Something that would make sense to me - a failed researcher, who wished to understand nature and its mysteries through numbers. Instead, I have become a mystery myself. A riddle. An impossibility. As if god existed, whatever his or her name would be. What a punishment for the thirst for knowledge…

Instead of facing great secrets, I simply raise my head a little and try to look at the sun that shines through the yellowish factory window. The gears move swiftly inside me, and if I did not pay attention, I wouldn't even notice. But the magic kernel processes what peripherals deliver, the motherboard's buses pass the message that lands in some remote pagefile that I can hardly access consciously. But they are there… The levels and curves tool of my vision-processing software work out a new automated balance and send the command back to my physical eyes to digest the incoming light waves in a new, better manner. I observe it within me. Amazing. Fast, sophisticated but practical, dancing on the verge of perception. Even though it is not perfect, I can still see the world all the same as in the past, and it _hurts just a little_. Like tonemapping in a photo. Can be eye-soring if you’re unskilled but also so rich and juicy if you make an effort… So what has eventually changed? Nothing?

"Hmmm…" - I murmur to myself wondering.

"Mrmh…" - the factory walls echo.

I throw away the duvet and sit up on the bed. It is strangely silent. The light I looked into just a moment ago crosses the air and falls on the floor and the walls, painting the room in an irregular pattern of dark and glowy stripes full of moving dust particles. It looks… nice, hypnotising, unreachable… I stretch my hand out and wave through one of the rays trying to grasp the glittering bits of reality. The sun reflects off my silver mechanics, but the tiny specks of matter don't abide me. My arm goes right through them. I open my palm, and it's empty. I caught nothing. The bits of dust are like words that I sometimes need but cannot find in my head. They exist but escape me.

A feeling of dissociation creeps up my spine before I notice. Why am I at all here?

Not here in the factory hall, but here in this place in my life, which I still do not recognise to exist. I *know* I'm in denial. And I hate to break its comfort… But the glittering splinters of dust, the sun rays on my mechanical hand… and the lenses and shutters in my eyes… they scratch my invisible surface. The surface of me. The real me. They tickle my nerves, they vex my inner skin.

I drag my knees up to my chin. Does Sparklight know I have woken up? Does she know? Where is she? I made myself believe that she understands me so well, that she hears across walls, right down into my skull, that she is so attached to me, always near, why isn't she coming? I recall blurrily the taste of her feeler tip and the ugly feeling of loneliness when she pulled away from me, when she escaped my attempted delirious kissing, away, out of my reach, suddenly scared of me… Why had she followed me like a shadow all that time but not now? Why did she say all those sweet things… about how I tasted, about how good I was, calling me her spark or sparkling, whatever it translates into, but it means _heart_ , it means _important_ … I stroke my legs with my hands and I can feel through my skin how mechanical I am. How non-organic. Where does the food go in me? What for do I need it? To feed the remains of my obsolete organs?

What should I do now? I turn around. The phone lies on the table. The phone… I reach out for it in the first impulse but then I withdraw my hand warily just before I touch it. No! The bloody source of confusion. There is… too many things in it. They disturb me…

Instead, I slide my legs from the bed to the floor and down to the ground. My body feels alien. It feels heavy and strange. _‘You’re pregnant with each other’..._ said Ratchet… What the hell would that mean? All the time I am either sick or in fever, in a coma or having nightmares. I am trapped here, torn out of my roots, of my own self, transforming, but yet forbidden to change into what my body calls for and see what I am supposed to become…

I’m uncomfortable.

My gaze drops to the floor. It is strangely glossy. I blink. It is… a mirror… No way it is a mirror, it is made of concrete, I must again be delirious… Although my temperature is low for fever… What is it?

Dissociation...

I stare into the floor that seems to be gleaming, and I look at the reflection of my feet, four toes each, instead of five, arranged in a semi-crescent, each with a big, hefty claw that could scratch that mirror floor immediately. I try, but they don't scratch it.

The man in my dream was warning the other one not to look in the eyes of their prisoner, who I thought of as Sparklight. Her eyes are as beautiful as he said, as enchanting, and yes, they give me a feeling like she could read what I’m thinking… Isn’t that true about Sparklight? She can at least partially do that, or maybe just read it from my field. She must know… she must know how her charms work on me. Is that on purpose? What use does she have of me? I already _‘saved her life three times’_ , isn’t that just enough? Did she save my life too? Why isn’t she here while I’m standing in the glittering sunshine staring at my feet and the glossy floor?

I think… I'm afraid. My brain does not know about it but the skin on my hands and the tip of my tail, they tell me how the world is shrinking. I guess… I don't know. Do I want to go home? To my own bed, to my old body…? My weak, wretched human body… To my life, my ordinary, uninteresting but comfortable lifestyle…

Sparklight… don’t you hear me? Where are you? If she doesn’t come here, I’ll find her. I’ll go and see what’s happening. I’m gonna stand behind her, pretend I’m invisible and see how fast she will detect me.

I try to sense her with my tail but… there's empty space around me. It's strange… there is no bed and no walls in the scan that my tail feeds me, although I can see all of them clearly. There is no floor and no ceiling, although I can easily measure them… quantify them… I look up in a reflex of the moment, and I see… a clear blue sky above me. No… that cannot be the sky, the colour is wrong, it's grey, and it's got the ceiling's texture… it's overgrown by moss and mould and ivy… It's not the sky, it's the ground… I look down again, and there's a mirror.

The dissociation now grows serious. Eva… there’s something seriously wrong here…

A hardly discernible movement catches my eye. The corners of the factory hall host shadows, no matter how sunny it is. They are lurking in there, waiting for the right moment to sneak out and entangle the whole world in their blurry presence. And in the shadows… What is that in the shadows?

I jolt up as if I touched fire. There is something! Another shadow… Or not, something is moving… I sharpen my eyes' mechanics to see better, but the thing disappears. Or… it doesn't really. I just cannot see it when I focus. I try for the second time, and it doesn't work at all. There is clearly nothing. I can see the walls, some boxes that were there before already, maybe it hides behind them?

I stretch myself higher to see better. It does not help either. Yet the feeling of movement still haunts me. I try to be smart and concentrate on what my tail tells me. It solved my trouble before… At least a little. This time the tail tells me nothing. Like as if nothing existed. Just empty space all around me…

I blink to get rid of this strange feeling, but nothing goes away. I open my eyes wider, and then I get it. It's not behind the boxes, not in the shadows… but it is on the floor… no… it is _in_ the floor, it is the reflection that I see which is moving. It is… my eyes slide down to my feet that float on the glossy surface, as if I walked on water… It is deep. Deep like an ocean, waving a little, never really stable, it makes me seasick slightly, but… But now, I understand. It is me in the floor. Me from that dream in the meadow. Me from the subway mirror… Me demon…

I stare blindly into my vision like I did into the real mirror, but there is something more wrong. I raise my hands before me, but the reflection stays motionless.

I look around, nothing fits. I should be wearing something. But the reflection is… not even naked.

Wait.

A shadow passes the corner of my eye again. I look left quickly to catch it. It is gone in the same split moment. I look back at the floor, and I realise that this time I do not reflect in it at all. I just… stand on water.

"What's going on?" - I ask finally, and my voice goes nowhere. Like if there were no air to spread the sound waves around me. I know this feeling. _I remember._ I have been here before. I turn around, and there is no bed behind me. Or more precisely, there is… a shadow of a bed, and a shadow of a night table, a shadow of sun rays falling across a shadow of a factory window… Shadows everywhere. Reality… but not really. Post-fact, post-truth… post-reality?…

 _We are all dead in the shadow zone… Run while you can… -_ wasn’t that what the growling voice said when I was falling?

… My skin is too tight, my throat narrow, my heart’s hectic, my knees shaky… Adrenaline… Cortisol… Get myself together! Now!

Breathe in… My eyes swipe the surrounding. Breathe out… Control. Surveillance. Attention. Focus. Knowledge protects from fear…

And there it is - I finally see it. A huge black cat-like creature sneaking towards me, upside down, below me. On the other side of the floor, down-under. Looking… the way I saw myself already, in a similar mirror floor back on that day when I first kissed Sparklight.

The cat is standing before me, I can see its clawed mechanical paws and the bladed fur on its chest, its long tail is moving slowly, the way cats wag their tails, strained, unnerved, ready to jump just in case… but where to? To catch me? How do you jump upside down? Its red eyes are gleaming. I'm not even sure if it sees me. Does it look at me?

I feel like running, withdrawing somewhere, but where to, if there is nothing? Nothing but the cat and me. I collect my courage and…

"Hello?" - I try quietly… The robot animal moves forward. It is truly massive for a cat, it is huge for a panther… it is not a cat in fact, although it moves like one. What is it? Is it another ghost of myself? Another revelation? I'm not a prophet and I'm not crazy… It seems to be walking towards me, but nothing happens. It doesn't even get near… I look closer but the harder I try, the more it gets blurry, dim, transparent…

"Is there anybody out there?" - I try again.

"Out there… out there?" _-_ the echo repeats after me. So now there is an echo…

Dissociation overwhelms me. Impossibility. I must be dreaming… I’m so fucking tired of nightmares!

 _"Who are you?"_ \- a sudden alien sound invades me. It's not the cat speaking… The voice… comes from behind me. Flat, mechanical, artificial… I know it. _I remember._ I have heard it already… I turn around abruptly to see its owner.

*He* is standing there, right behind me. The Sparklight-like robot, but bigger than her, as tall as Ratchet, darker, as dark as the night sky, bent forward, crooked, faceless…

I turn my head back quickly, and there is no cat anymore, there is nothing… but me and the faceless shadow. I look down at myself and it comes to me, the realisation, that *I* am the cat now again, the black demon cat, the morkkatt…

"Who are you?" - it's now me asking. I did not even plan it, intend it, it just happened… I opened my mouth, letting the voice out, to freedom. But I get no answer. Or I do get something, but that's not the answer at all.

 _"You smell like her." -_ he says to me sounding like an old record, like a voice generator… a bit like Sparklight but not so close to her as I thought the first time I heard him. Neater, lower, nicer… How could I have ever confused them? No one sounds like Sparklight, she's the one and only, unique. Her voice is ugly, disturbing, rotten, his voice is just flat and metallic.

I should be scared of him. I guess. I think… I am frightened, but I don't know for real if it’s me or someone else standing here. My heart is scared though for sure and so is my skin and my bowels, but me…

_"You smell like her, but you are not her…"_

I take a cautious step back. It forces me into more movement than I would have guessed without thinking. Am I standing on two legs or on four? _…_

 _"Are you her symbiont?"_ \- he follows one step closer. My neck spikes rise slowly in warning, they are out of control, but I feel them. The floor is still made of water, and I glance quickly. Eva… Eva - me, - myself, - I - Eva the human looks at me from under my feet, contradicting my animal body. Is Eva left on the downside and have I swapped souls with the cat? Jesus Christ, can I wake up finally?

 _"It’s impossible, she’s dead!!!"_ \- he insists and takes another staggering step towards me, growing even shadier and bigger. - _"It’s impossible… they killed her… drained her energon empty… it’s illogical… how can you…"_ \- his voice starts trembling, the metal in it is rusty… - _"Is she… can she be… or am I dreaming?!!"… "Tell me!!!"_ \- he shouts abruptly like an electric guitar string breaking, cutting the air on its way.

Should I… run away? Where? Everything is grey and empty… but there… there should be the factory and real air with glowing micro-dust in it and walls and our bed and everything… there should be Sparklight and Ratchet…

"Who are you?!" - I make one or two steps without moving, my stomach cringing. - "What do you want…?!"

I search for a leeway, an emergency exit… But it's just grey everywhere, above, all around me… I look down again, and suddenly, I see everything. It's there… underneath. Our world - the bed, the walls, everything. Upside down… underwater… How do I get there? Do I jump head-first? Or simply… imagine?

I stare at him paralysed. There is no use running, is it? Or maybe…

I close my eyes as strong as I can.

 _"Wait! Don't go!"_ \- his metal voice is softer and suddenly panicked.

What is it he’s saying? Does it mean I’ve found the way…? I want out of here, but…

 _"I've been trapped here forever…_  
_I lost everyone…  
_ _everything…"_

I hear a metallic thud and screech of rust, crumbling. The universe gets smaller…

 _"Is there_  
_a chance…_  
_that they lied to me…_  
_that she…  
_ _…?"_

My eyelids hurt of fear, closed tightly. Yet… they itch of curiosity, too. What is stronger? The fear or… Their grip softens. Damn… why am I so easily tempted…

One eye unlocks involuntarily, the world opens again, and I peek through. He kneels or sits before me leaning on his arms, even more alien and even more mechanical than Sparklight… His head is now down, hanging. He is so much smaller. He is a pile of asymmetric shards and chunks of metal, a stealth jet cut into pieces and thrown to a scrapyard, once fine, now broken… Powerless…

I stand frozen, waiting. Something keeps me in place. And then he raises his heavy head, and I see that he's not faceless but just masked, hiding behind a glass visor in which I see myself reflecting. Not a cat, not a demon, but a human… I'm completely human. As if time turned back. I'm Eva. The Eva I know from my home bathroom mirror… How can this be? Is it me? Where did the pointy ears go? Where is my tail, all the spikes, the mechanical arm and bandaged legs, where are my cat paws…? My gaze slides lower, to check the grey mirror on which I'm standing, but it's not a mirror anymore, it is a factory floor made of concrete, and there is nothing below it. It's not transparent, not glossy, all the ghosts are gone, the cat, the water, the images… Everything. Yet he is still there, in front of me, crumbled, looking fragile and old.

"Who are you?" - the question escapes my mouth for the third time, and I open the other eye and start staring. I'm not afraid anymore.

 _"I’m nobody…"_ \- he says, and I tilt my head to the side in curiosity, like Sparklight.

"Why do I see you?... Where did you come from…?"

_"You smell like her… Like her symbiont… If she were dead… the smell would die too… it’s unique."_

"The smell… of whom…?"

_"My little one… My sparkling… The light of my spark…"_

"The light of your spark?" - the sting in my heart is as sudden as impossible. For I knew it… I knew right from the start what his question would be and whom he is looking for. I knew it all along… And yet it pierces my chest like a silver bullet, like x-ray gamma radiation, right into my pulsing spark. Is it another charm, or is it a real feeling?

 _"My Sparklight… is she… is there any chance…"_ \- he wraps his long arms around himself like an orphan, as if he were hugging a shadow.

"She…" - I swallow - "She is…"

He raises his head higher, attentive, hungry… but… he's not dark and mechanical anymore, he looks like a mirror. He looks like the factory walls, like my bed, like my pillow, like the black cat in the shadows, like the rays of the sun that fall through the window, like the floor that I step on…

 _"Is she…?"_ \- a much-belated echo of the strange voice fills my skull and irks my bone marrow. I have to say it now… or never. I have to decide. I have to… or it's gonna be too late in a second…

"She… is… alive… and well." - I whisper, and I see him dissolve into dust bits, into the air, into nothing. He just falls apart, and the only thing that remains is two fiery red dots in front of me, burning like wildfire, gleaming like embers, hanging between the sunlit dancing particles that mark the air's existence. And then they dissolve too. But I know they were _his_ eyes. Red fire filled with relief.

"Are you…" - I continue in a silent voice staring at my bed and the sunlight - "Are you her father?"…

The empty air above the bed replies nothing. I am alone. I don't even feel his, or anybody's presence… That is, I can sense Sparklight and Ratchet weakly in quite some distance from here. They are both on the other end of the factory, in the large boiler house, where all the drama happened when Sparklight tried to escape. But besides them, there is no one but some rats and some real cats in their hideouts. And there is me. Standing on the concrete floor. I raise my hands in front of my face, and they are _normal_ : one human one mechanical. The tail itches a little, and I need to go to the bathroom.

The dissociation is gone. I am alone. I am me. I saw something. I talked to someone. I talked to…

The endless chain reaction of miracles, of dreams, is it ongoing? I bet I did not sleep this time. It all happened here. Right here where I'm standing. I changed three times: I was a cat, I was a human, I am me. The factory changed too, and I saw… I talked to a phantom. A ghost of a robot, who materialised in a whirlwind of magic. I told him… about Sparklight.

It suddenly hits me. What if… what if… it was a set-up? If it was a hologram or a 3D projection, what if… someone found out that I am here, tracked the phone down, discovered its location? Used me as decoy…? What if all the things I was dreaming were TRUE? The cage, the blood, the pain, the torture, and those men, who planned something, who wanted to steal from her, steal… her organs? Parts of her body? Her skills, knowledge? What they called technology… Were they people, humans or robots? Who were they?

I press my hands to my temples, but the thoughts wouldn't stop running.

I HAVE STOLEN HER from the building, have I already forgotten? What if… they are now looking for her, the Agency, or whoever that was, governments, spies, institutes, churches, her countrymen, Cybertronians, seekers, decepti-something or those robots with symbols like the one Ratchet has, the military, intelligence, humans, aliens…

She comes from SOMEWHERE. She has a PAST. Maybe they wanted to know… if she's still living. And they made up a sweet story of a father missing his daughter, to catch a naive woman who thinks of herself as reasonable while she is just a regular idiot, prone to risk-taking and sorrow…  
  
…  
…  
…

But… he did not say… anything… that could be suspicious… Why did it feel so authentic?

This place… was the same as in that dream in the meadow. And he named it the last time. And Ratchet used the same name when I was still in coma… He said, he mentioned that Sparklight reminded him of someone, she looked like someone, someone dead… or worse than dead… someone trapped in a _shadow zone_ …

This place… it felt… like that name. A place of shadows, of greyness, of emptiness… an eternal prison… Could it be… that I trespassed its boundaries? Somehow? I entered… and… that’s more than a coincidence, isn’t it?

Should I tell them what I saw? Tell Sparklight? What can I tell her? How? What is she gonna think? Will she believe it? If it was her father - was he real? Or just a memory? A projection from deep in my head, stolen from her past through our connection. A scene made up by my imagination based on fragmented log bits, that don’t add up together but my human mind plays tricks with them and made it seem so real…?

Did it at all happen?

There is nothing to prove it.

Am I crazy?... Since when do I believe in gods, ghosts or black cats crossing my path… or shadow zones for that matter?

I look around, glaring. I can’t move… My head is a wasp nest, loud and indecisive. I’m standing, standing, standing like this, fighting my way through my memory, through all the scenarios, from panic to a gulp in my throat, and then back to denial… I’m standing there for… minutes, quarters? I don't know.

Finally, my biology wakes me, my feet ache, and I need to wee… I take a few staggering steps to the door, moving like a ghost in plain daylight. I walk out unhindered, no one comes to fetch me and keep me tied to the bed with kindness. No one makes the air empty and grey again. No cornered shadows haunt me. Not even a single kitten crosses my way to the toilet.

The corridor is darkish, as always, only some dim light falls inside. I go step by step grateful that my feet don't ache or bleed the way they did when I was first looking for Sparklight, stepping across the same floor.

I sneak into the loo, do what I need to do there, and then look in the mirror that someone hanged back in its place hiding the old spider webs. I look and look into my face, and I absorb the image, to be sure whom I have become in recent days. The one I started to befriend slowly. The ears, the T-800 half-face with hardly any nose on it and blue shiny mech eyes with red dots in the middle.

I pour water on my hands and realise how I'm stinking. I need a bath. I really need it. But first… I still have to find Sparklight. And… maybe tell her? After all? Despite everything? How worse can it get?

I turn the tap off and walk out to the corridor. My goal is right at the end, ahead of me. I look in the opposite direction, the way out must be somewhere behind there, straight and left to the side. I seem to sense it too. Outside there is just a vast desert and an empty road of concrete, swept by the wind-carried sand, hot during the day, cold in the night. No car tracks, no human presence. After all, this here is a prison. A makeshift prison for aliens. Where no one can see us, or meet us, apart from those who know the secret.

And me? Am I imprisoned too? Am I a secret…? It’s not really hard to decipher…

Did anyone ask me permission…?

I turn back and look towards the shimmering voices. A thin streak of light cuts across the floor from nowhere, painting it golden, contrasting with darkness. I don't walk further, I listen. With my tail and my ears. They are like radars. A power-surveillance-combo, a super sensitive directional voice receiver… I don’t need to walk anywhere. I can hear everything if I only … _listen…_

One of the voices is Sparklight's. It is hard to say much about it as the rust, mould and destruction in it dim any emotion or tone. But the energy I feel from her, even from this far, is telling. She is upset.

_"No."_

"Don't be so stubborn." - it is Ratchet. - "I could implant you a voice synthesiser based on Earth technology, the only available here. Or if you're patient, I can even get you something from home… The next spacebridge opening comes in a few weeks…"

_"No."_

"Why not? These voices can be beautiful, and you could choose one you might like."

 _"It wouldn’t be mine."_ \- the ugly, screechy sound pollutes the painterly silence with its disturbing wavelengths. They tingle my senses strangely.

"You know it is impossible to give you your own voice back. At least now, in these conditions."

_"I can wait. It does not matter."_

"A compromise would be reasonable, you can always upgrade it later… Why not do it for Eva if you don’t want it for yourself..."

_"Eva…"_

A long break follows giving me time to digest my name pronounced by her.

He gives up.

"You don't have to do anything Sparklight. It’s all your choice. Nobody forces you to anything. I'm just saying what I can do for you. Offering you help, do you understand that?" - he explains as if she were a revolted teenager, but I know more than well why he is saying it, stressing it, repeating. Her face, mad with primal animal fear, stands clear in the eyes of my memory. Up there under the ceiling, when she nearly killed us both… "Anyway, it is all up to you to decide… We are free people here, that’s fundamental."

 _...free in a prison..._ I think to myself, but her reply drifts elsewhere.

_"... I do not need any voice with Eva."_

"Right, of course, you have this symbiont thing… your own communication… You are lucky. It's rare, below the statistical error. No one can talk like this nowadays. I don’t even know fully how it works, there is no known component responsible for it…"

_"It works."_

"Look Sparklight, I know it is all complex, but it is not even about your voice. I really don't mind it. A voice is a voice… But you… simply should try to live normally. You have to start to enjoy, to think of your future. The spacebridge is coming… You still got some weeks to consider. What are you gonna do next? Stay here, go back to Cybertron? How do you plan to solve it with Eva? Does she know anything? Did you ask her, talk with her honestly? However it sounds, she's the closest one you got." - his voice becomes harsher for a few seconds, but then he lowers it quickly filling it with warm compassion - "I know it is rolling fast, but you two are something unique… You don't even know how sparkwarming it was when I found her that night curled up next you, frozen cold…" - a sigh, even deeper, escapes his chest, while she persists in deep silence - "You… You cannot wallow like that in whatever happened. It seems that you're regaining just bad memories once the recovery script went rolling… At least I can get your voice right if I can't fix everything…"

 _"Maybe I only have bad memories."_ \- she utters finally, her voice slightly shaking.

"Good Primus, you are special…" - a deep sigh comes from his side. - "Nobody has just bad memories. There must have been something good in your life. And there will be good things too, you will see. I have to re-check, maybe it's my mistake, maybe there's a bug in that script. And I'm going to work on it, believe me, and we're going to repeat the data recovery process. Maybe not all partitions are readable, maybe there's still something filtering… and you are not standard either…"

 _"..."_ \- she doesn't reply.

"And… I could at least try to fix these scars a little better? You'll be transforming smoother, and we can try to have your skin recover nicely on your back and your legs, the way you managed to grow it back on that big chest scar… you'll see you'll be happy about it, it will not hurt or pull you anymore, it will ease you in flight, and you will not have to see it every time you take that shell off you…" - his voice becomes soft, gentle as a voice of a caring father. I can hear he is stressed and worried, he doesn't know how to bite it, how to reach through the armour of Sparklight to her soft core, that he's seen, but that is inaccessible to anyone, even me.

 _"Ratchet"_ \- her voice is quiet, but firm, decided - _"you did more for me than I would have ever asked for, and you know how I'm thankful… You saved Eva's life, and you got me up and running, you are a true magician…" -_ the whole speech sounds terrible as if she were a young witch sentenced to burn on a pyre, announcing her last goodbyes _\- "But these scars and this voice… they serve for me to remember who I am. A glitch… A freak… An abomination. What I have done to Eva… who I have been… what I have become…"_

"Stop this." - he interrupts her sharply in mid-sentence - "We both know you would ask for nothing. Damn, you shall not call yourself a glitch or a freak in my presence!" - he breathes deeply like furnace bellows. Funny how now he forbids her to call herself what he called someone he first compared her to when I was still lying in a coma.

She doesn't know it though… Nobody knows what I heard and saw in my dark wells.

"Before your memory is back fully, please don't judge yourself or draw conclusions. What is the knowledge you rely on? Is it complete, objective, fair? You say you remember mostly what _they_ told you. Except that you don’t even know who _they_ are! Who are _they_ to tell you things about your life, past and value? The same people who did what I had to fix, right? Seriously, you believe them? Is this how much they broke your spirit?"

I hear the sound of his arms thrown up and down, hitting his sides of metal. Ratchet the doctor… straightforward, like those physicians who tell you right into your face: _‘sir, you've got cancer_ ’ sticking a paper to your hand with the test results… And caring, like those doctors who spend nights sweating over the surgical table bringing you back to life, doing what has to be done… It's clear as daylight that he will not persuade her to do anything by this preaching though. Same as he would not convince me… Why are we so stupidly stubborn?

"Hey, seeker girl…" - he softens at her silence - "… don't be so sad… I know I don't understand much of it, but still, it's gonna be fine… you will see. It's gonna be fine, little one…" - his voice turns to whisper, and silence fills the huge factory. I can hear my own breathing, and the air going through both of their robot bodies…

And… I… feel strange, compassionate, scared, sorrowful… jealous. Empty a little and overloaded at the same time. What are they talking about after all? What did _they_ do to her? Is that what I saw in my dreams, the scars I saw on her unconscious body? Scars, scars everywhere, pain, suffering… what kind of life am I dragged into? Who is my romantic lover, girlfriend, carrier, ‘wife’, symbiont? The one who showed me the Earth’s beauty through satellites’ eyes and who held me from falling into the stormy stream water… Who is she?

She’s more willing to speak with Ratchet than me. Me! - whom she cradles each night craving my warmth, whom she infected with her blood, and whose mind she feeds with her own suffering… What is that exchange of needs and horrors that we’re both having…? What did she _do_ to me? What did she refer to?

Well… it is almost clear that she’s the one who stands behind my change… The _transformation._ Dear Lord, my poor head is too small for all this. How long can I keep thinking that it was an accident, a pure coincidence, an innocent radioactive spider… of course, it was her. Of course. Clear. And now what? NOW WHAT? Now that's for me to deal with…

I bite my lip, forgetting how sharp my teeth are now. Iron flavour of blood mixed with energon fills my mouth. Thoughts are clouding my head. That's enough… that's enough listening for the moment. I shouldn't have listened in the first place. But I did it. Congratulations. As if it was not enough for today already with the dreams and the ghosts and cats and mirrors…

I turn around slowly and walk back to the big sunny factory hall that is my room. Our room. Ratchet's quarters… Whatever…

I'd rather lie asleep now in blissful oblivion and not have had all this happen… Of course, she can't hear me. She's busy with something else. She's busy with herself now, her problems, she's minding her business… Understandable, but… I wonder how much did she really hear from what Ratchet said to her…

I heard it all.

I throw myself onto the bed and wrap in the duvet. It is too hot for this, but I need it. I need something warm and soft around me that would give me safety. I cover my ears with my hands. I don't want even to try to hear more, until it's due, until it's right, until it's proper... I want her to tell me herself. I don't want any guessing. My hair is soft to the touch but it is also wet and greasy. The world is damp and sticky, and I am worried about Sparklight. I am worried about myself all the same. I’m worried for us. For the future. I'd rather sleep now and know nothing.

Maybe she can read my thoughts… but sometimes even she can’t listen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me some time, I admit. Maybe it's been a writer's block (I don't know this animal all too well), maybe burnout (this one I know more than well). Over 30 k words went to the bin, that is 4 times this chapter or more, but now I'm back on track. I hope.
> 
> It's much harder to write this story than it seems while reading. Sometimes I wonder how at all it is possible. It's the hardest thing I have ever written, but also the most rewarding. It's sometimes a bit as if a strange entity was sitting within me having better and worse days. This entity is called the Muse, I guess. And she has harsh opinions, tight deadlines, demanding quality control markers. Sometimes she is empty too and feels like doing nothing, whipping my back for laziness and lack of progress... Isn't it weird?
> 
> I have an overall plan and outline, and the Muse keeps figuring out new points, unplanned twists and turns, fresh ideas, dragging me away from the inevitable. So I struggle... Well. The last chapter of this story is already written and waits to see how much it's gonna be changed. 
> 
> Keep your fingers crossed for me, whoever you are, dear Readers.


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